


Coming Out of Hiding

by DeanBean



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, coolkid john au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanBean/pseuds/DeanBean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU created by Puck (fastpuck.tumblr.com) in mulitple chatlogs with his wonderful friend Shera (specialshera,tumblr.com).<br/>John is the coolkid and Dave is the loser.<br/>Enjoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Your name is Dave Strider and everyone thinks you’re a nightmare come alive.

But you really aren’t. You’re far from it. You think you’re a pretty nice guy. On a scale from zero to ten on the sunshine and daisy scale, personality wise, you give yourself a seven at the very least. But no one realizes that. 

There was just that one time at the beginning of Freshman year when you were sick of everyone’s shit so you brought a blade to school. One of Bro’s nicer katanas. One that had been hanging on the wall in his bedroom. You waited all day to strife the fucktruck who was causing you trouble. The two of you were in the middle of the football field, ready to have it out. And then you went and pulled your blade and cut the guy up. No one expected it and you got into a hell of a lot of trouble. Even after a year of alternative school and anger management classes, people were still scared of you. 

Now, as you pace through the halls with your head angled downward ever so carefully, you hear the usual string of whispers that follow you around. 

“There’s that one kid…”  
“Remember that fight a few years ago?”   
“I can’t believe he hasn’t been locked up.”  
“The other guy still has a big scar.” 

No one talks to you. No one has the balls to. You’re pretty alone for the most part and you kind of like it that way. Time not spent dealing with other people is time spent on other, more important things. Your grades are top notch and when it comes to sicknasty rhythms, you’re the fucking king. If only you hadn’t been so lonely lately. 

A comeback would be simple. You could link up with a clique and make yourself fit with a crowd that you really didn’t belong with. You’d seen it done before and it didn’t seem too hard. But something in you told you that it just wasn’t worth the time. You’d just deal with being alone.

You round the corner into your first class of the day a moment before the tardy bell rings. You lope to your seat and plop down, placing your backpack on the ground to rummage around for that night’s homework. First class of the day was advanced calculus. Something not many Juniors could handle. But with your natural skill, Bro’s fondness for numbers (because of his coding habits) and the help of internet tutorials, you’re passing with a high B. 

Your thick book bangs a little louder than necessary on your desk and it makes even you wince. People glance nervously at you and when they catch you looking back their eyes widen and they whip around as if nothing had happened. Fuck if you could do anything without making yourself look like a homicidal maniac to your peers. 

The tardy bell rings and teach shuts the door. Without warning, her hand twitches and there’s a complex problem on the board as a review from last night’s homework. From the groan of the rest of the class, you can tell none of them did the work. You, however, have got this so hard that Archimedes would be jealous. With a smirk fixed in place and your long bangs swept behind an ear to keep it out of the way, you begin. 

It may be a bit of a nerdy thing to think, but you’re kind of glad that math is the first class of the day. It gives you something else to think about besides dreading how the rest of your eight hour school day will go. 

==>

Your name is John Egbert and you have planned the most choice prank. It’s so good that you can hardly contain your laughter as you wait for Rose to get to class so she can fall for your awesome trick. 

This would get her back for making a better grade on the paper you worked together on. Your teachers never believed that you did your own work, even though you actually tried really hard. There was something about the way you goofed off and could never answer a question on the spot that made them think that all you did to get by was cheat your ass off. 

Normally, you wouldn’t prank someone for a bad grade… But she’d rubbed this one in your face. So it was time for payback. 

“My apologies.” Came Rose’s voice from the door. Her books were held in her arms and her backpack was swinging from one arm with the zippers undone. “It’s just that I had a lot of work to do and no one had written their part of the stories and-“

“Ms. Lalonde. It’s alright.” The teacher gave your friend a tired smile. “There are still a few minutes to until the tardy bell.” 

Oh yeah. It was sixth period and her writing club met in fifth. No wonder she looked so stressed. It almost made you want to cancel the prank… but nah. Why ruin this awesome timing? 

Rose nodded at the teacher ever so politely and made her way to the back of the class where she usually sat, right behind you. 

“Tough meet?” you ask, leaning back in your chair to fight the urge to whistle nonchalantly. God, you are such a mastermind. Pure Trickster fluid runs through your veins. Genius. 

“Eridan’s writing has yet to stray from anything other than completely horrifying. Karkat had at least 200 pages on the complication of human romance that no one really has the concentration to read through and I have no idea how to shorten it. He’s upset with me about that. Kanaya was fine with not having her poetry put in the publication, but without her work we get no feedback. I have no idea how this month’s issue is going to get finished…” she trails off. Her hair had come loose from the thick black band she usually pulled it back with, and the black of her lipstick was peeling off from where she’d nervously been biting her lip. 

She’s standing in front of her desk, neatly placing her papers and books back in her bag so she can find them easier later on. You furrow your brow in concentration and eye her seat. “Why don’t you sit down, Rose?” you ask. 

“Just give me a moment.” She tucks a piece of light blonde hair behind her ear and shuffles through the front pocket of her pink and black bag. Knitting needles fall to the ground and she curses softly under her breath. 

“Come on, have a seat. It’ll make you feel better.” You place a hand on the back of the small desk and jiggle it just as she wrestles the needles back in their place. 

“Why do you want me to sit down so badly, John?” she asks, raising and eyebrow. She gives you a scrutinizing stare while pushing her hair back behind its headband. 

“No reason. Just thought you might want to take a load off.” You lie. This time the whistling almost comes by itself. Your lips are pursed and everything. 

“John Egbert is there a whoopee cushion on the seat of my desk?” she interrogates. 

“Why the actual fuck would you think tha-“you try to throw her off, but she’s giving you that stupid look. “It’s not a whoopee cushion. It’s a mouse trap. Vriska said that mouse traps work better.” You give in. She gapes at you and walks around, removing the small rectangle from its perch on her desk. It even had a little piece of Swiss cheese on it and everything. 

A snort comes from the other side of the room, but all you see is a kid with shaggy blonde hair with his back to you. “What are you-“ the bell rings, intent to interrupt you, just like everything else today.

“I can’t believe you intended for me to sit on a mousetrap, John. How stupid do you think I am?” Rose shakes her head good-naturedly. With a flick of her fingers, she’s disabled the trap and slipped it back into your open bag. 

“You have to admit that it would have been a cool prank though.” You sulk, crossing your arms across your chest and flicking your hair out of your eyes with a scowl. 

“Yes. The coolest.” She rolls her eyes at you and sits down in her chair. You really had to find a way to get her one of these days. The class is murmuring to themselves as the elderly history teacher fights with her computer to try and get the attendance submitted. After she accomplishes that, she is almost honor bound to tell a story about how different this school had been when she taught here five hundred years ago. 

“So what are your plans for tonight?” You ask, leaning your head on the small desk in front of you to face Rose. The longer portion of hair in the middle of your head hangs down in your eyes and you puff out your cheeks to blow it back into place. The guys kept telling you to shave the sides again, but there was no way in hell that would be happening. Mohawks were cool for some kids, but on you it looked plain dumb. Luckily, a choice prank involving a slime filled bucket on top of the locker room door had gotten back the guys who’d bet you to get the stupid haircut in the first place. 

“Let’s see, it’s a Tuesday, so I think I’ll be staying home doing what normal kids do on a Tuesday.” She scoffed in her own Rose way. 

“You’re far from a normal kid, Ms. Lalonde.” You can’t help but laugh. The corner of her black painted mouth curls up, too. “So I assume that means you’re going to be knitting something ridiculous and writing about homo-wizards?” 

“Naturally.” She bows her head with a deepening smile. “Isn’t that what you do while at home?” 

“Oh, all the time! My hidden notebooks are full to bursting with hot magic yaois and every teapot in my house is complete with a cozy. But tonight I think I want to go down to the skate park. Just to fuck around a little.” 

“What you really mean is that you’re the best at biking, swimming, running, playing football, basketball and baseball and you’ve gotten bored enough to try skateboarding.” She confirmed. And she was right. You were the best at everything. Why not add rolling around on a plank of wood with wheels to your repertoire? 

“And there’s that, too.” 

“Gosh darned thing. Back in my day…” the overly cheerful voice of the history teacher began on her ancient tangent and the class collectively faced front to pretend to pay attention. You make sure to actually hang onto every word this time. Because there is no way Rose is getting another grade better than yours. 

==>

“Little bro! Get the door!” a shout breaks through your homework concentration. You had to analyze the shit out of some old poem that really made no sense, even when you tore it apart like they brainwashed you to do in school. 

“You fucking get it!” you yell back with a smirk. Of course, you’re glad for a reason to break from rotting your brain with corporal English lessons, but messing with Bro was half the fun you had in life. 

“Busy! You don’t fucking understand!” he snarled back. That was universal code for he was watching some sort of obscure anime without the subtitles. You tried joining him one time, but all the characters seemed to do was dance around the screen swinging overly decorated swords at each other while screaming ‘ _Baka!_ ’. 

With an unnecessary grunt, you push yourself away from your desk and lope into the hall. When you pass the living room, your bro is indeed hunched over on the couch, his pointed glasses pushed up so he can concentrate more on the screen. 

“You’ll go blind if you stare at it too long,” you warn. He flips you the bird without his face even turning the slightest degree to face you as he does so. There’s no point in returning the favor. 

You reach the front door and wrench it open, the old metal screeching. 

“Hey Tav. Didn’t expect you.” You force yourself to smile at the neighbor from a few doors down. The two of you had been acquaintances since you moved in here. You used to hang out all the time. There were late night Pokemon sessions and trips to malls and everything. The two of you could have been considered best friends at one point. He was there for you when you had surgery on a broken arm. And you were there for him when he lost his legs in the car crash that killed his mom. At one point, he’d even talked to you at school. But after the whole sword incident in ninth grade, your interaction was limited to pesterlogs and random encounters like this one. You know it isn’t his fault… He just can’t handle confrontation. Really, Tavros is nicest person you’ve ever met. Nicer than you, even. But there is an almost crippling shyness that is hard as hell to crack. 

“Hi, uh, Dave.” His voice cracked like it always did and you exhale. He’s like a spooked little bunny rabbit. Nervously, he runs a hand along the thick strip of black hair on top of his head. He’d had a carefully maintained mohawk for as long as you can remember. The bullring was new though. You’d never seen that before. 

“Nice ring,” you point out, rubbing a finger underneath your own nose to emphasize the point. 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” He gives you that crooked little smile of his. “Hey, uh, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to go to the skatepark with me?” 

“Skating?” it had been ages since you’d ventured out to a decent skate ramp. You’d probably fall straight on your ass if you tried. “I don’t know.” 

“That’s cool, I mean, if you don’t wanna.” He shrugs, averting his eyes as his tan cheeks blush. 

“Tav, bro. What have I all up and told you about being all bashful?” another voice joins in. An impossibly long arm drapes itself over Tavros’s shoulder. The arm is accompanied by the tallest dude you’d ever seen before. He had to be close to seven foot. Maybe eight. His big brown eyes are set into half moons with droopy lids and wild, thick, dark brown hair is tied back into a ponytail. No way this guy went to your school. You’d notice him in a heartbeat. “It gets me all hot and motherfuckin’ bothered.” He buries his face into Tav’s stripe of hair like a puppy nuzzling its mother. 

If there were a single drop of blood left anywhere in Tavros’s body other than in his cheeks, you’d eat your own hand. “G-gamzee.” Tavros bites at his bottom lip and pushes at Gamzee’s arm. A pitiful attempt. 

“Uh, how’s the weather up there, bro?” you lean back to look him in the face. His thick lips stretch into the happiest grin you’ve ever seen. He’s a lot of stuff you’d never seen before, apparently. 

“Looks like there’s a hundred percent chance of you going skating with us my brother.” He reaches out a balled fist and you bounce yours against it, shaking your hair back into your face. It was a habit really. When you did happen to meet new people, the first thing to freak them out was your bright red eyes. “Name’s Gamzee Makara.” 

“Strider. Dave Strider.” You nod your approval, shoving your hands into your pockets. 

“Who-o-oa, Strider, Dave Strider.” He laughs, craning his neck to rest it on the top of Tavros’s. The last thing you expected was for him to have a boyfriend. Let alone anyone like this dude. Not that there was anything wrong with him. It was just… unexpected. Odd that someone as shy as Tav could get someone and you, the pinnacle of perfect people to date, were left with no one. “So what do you say, motherfucker? Coming with?” 

“He doesn’t mean it!” Tav interjected, elbowing Gamzee in the ribs. “Calling you, uh, a motherfucker. It’s just a thing that he does. Please… don’t take any, uh, offense to it.” 

“Aww, bro. He all up and knows I don’t mean it, don’t you, my brother?” he gives a creepy grin that almost makes you shiver. 

“Whatever.” You shrug. For some reason, your head is caught up in a battle between staying home to do your homework and actually hanging out with these guys. Social interaction really wasn’t your thing. It always tended to end badly. Most of the time it was your own fear of people fearing you that made any attempt at friendship fail, but that didn’t matter. 

“So do you want to come with us? I’m the best skater on no legs.” Tav smiles and gives you a wink. The cuffs of his black jeans are rolled up to display the his metal made calves. They’re shoved into thick black army boots with the tongue lolling out happily. Gamzee makes some sort of honking-slash-cooing noise and buries his face in his hair again. As if he just can’t handle Tavros being any kind of cute. 

After a moment of contemplation, you give in with a nod of your head. “Sure. Why the hell not?” Another shrug is given and Tav grins. “You wanna come in for a bit? I’ve gotta dig up my board and shit. Haven’t used it in ages.” 

“Oh, we can, uh, just wait out here if it’s too much trouble. “ Tav scratches at his arm nervously. You smirk. 

“No, it’s perfectly fine. Bro will be happy to see you.” You step aside, pushing the door open further to allow them entrance into your messy ass apartment. Gamzee bends over to fit through the door and pushes Tav along by the small of his back. “Make yourself at home.” You gesture to the living room where your Bro had just started another episode. “Tav’s here!” you shout, breaking him from his Sugoi Stare. Something you’d named his anime watching face ages ago. 

“Oh! What’s up little guy? Still makin’ it happen?” he asks when the couple joins him on the couch. Fists are bumped and Gamzee gives his introduction as you make your way to your room to find your skateboard amongst the clutter. 

==>

“No, John. God damn it you’re so stupid.” Vriska slaps a hand on her forehead in exasperation. You thought you’d done pretty well with that little board flip thing, but apparently it had sucked majorly. “Like this,” she says, placing her feet just _so_ to flip the board over with a leap to land neatly on top of it with her arms crossed in the most condescending way possible.

“I thought I’d done it right!” You pout. You hadn’t fallen or anything. It was just a little sloppy, but what else was to be expected from someone who’d never done it before?

“It lacked poise. Style, John. You need style!” She stomps up and slaps you in the forehead, too. Automatically you swing your arms around, grabbing her wrists and twisting one arm behind her back. Her messy black hair is pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, but there was still a hank of it falling over one of her eyes. She flicks it out of the way to shoot you a death glare over her shoulder. 

“I’m as stylish as they come.” You smirk. She growls at you like some sort of animal. “Say uncle.” 

“Not in your lifetime.” She tries to fight back, but she’s only a girl and her womanly strength is no match for your highly trained, masculine strength. She knows this is what you’re thinking and she groans again writhing to get away. 

Vriska is your best guy friend, even if she is nothing but a girl. She can hang with your teams and kick most of their asses and when it came to pranking she may even be better than you, sometimes. The two of you wrestle and fight and punch each other out of pure best-bro love. 

“Come on, Vris. Work for it,” you mock. That really pisses her off. You’re digging yourself into an early grave. But it was worth every second of misery it caused her. 

“Gog damn it, Egbert. You’re such a weak, pathetic excuse for a human body. I’m going to rip your fucking arms out of their sockets if it’s the thing I do with the very last breath I ever-“ you grip her arm tighter to quiet her down. Most people would think it was wrong to treat a girl like this… But most people didn’t know Vriska. 

After a long moment of her growling at you with her nostrils flaring, you start laughing and let her go. This earns you a hard punch in the shoulder that is most definitely going to turn into a big blue bruise. 

“Worth it.” You grin, rubbing at your injured shoulder. She paps you a little harder than necessary on the right cheek before storming away in a rage. 

“Yo. Yo! Hey! Hey dude! Heads up!” Suddenly there is a skateboard. And it’s flying straight towards your face. 

“Fuck!” The only thing you can think of to do is cover your face with the thick of your arms and pray it doesn’t hurt too bad. With your eyes shut tight, you hear the sound of a board being knocked out of the way and landing with a hard crack on the ground. 

“Don’t you know to move when someone says heads up?” A condescending, slightly husky voice sounds in front of you and you move your arms out of the way. 

It’s a blonde kid, around your age. His hair is shaggy and light blonde and it covers most of his face in a thick sheet. You can hardly make out his eyes underneath the thick mop, but his angled chin and long nose are perfectly visible. Something about him seems oddly familiar. Like an actor you know you’ve seen in a different movie than the one they’re in now. His skin is pale and there is a thin spattering of freckles across his cheeks. He’s holding a chipped and worn out board underneath one arm. 

“Don’t you know not to throw boards at people?” you shoot back, dusting yourself off, even though nothing had even happened to you. He shoves his hands deep into the pockets of his tight black jeans and angles his face away. 

“It wasn’t me. It was my friend.” He jerks his chin in the direction the board came flying. “He doesn’t have any legs. So sometimes it’s a little hard for him to skate properly.” Sure enough, in the direction he’d nodded there is a short kid sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped around two thin, metallic legs. A long, lean guy is hovering over him like some overprotective mother checking for booboos on a toddler who’d just bit the dust. 

“Oh. Uh, shit. I’m sorry.” You scratch at the back of your head, tugging at the long center piece that falls across your neck. He shrugs. Goddamn it that jawline is familiar. And the easy slouch of his lean shoulders underneath the thin, gray material of his T-shirt. Not that you _always_ paid attention to guys jaws… or their shoulders. This was the first time. You clear your throat a little louder than you should. “I’m John. John Egbert.” 

“Yeah. I know who you are.” You know he’s looking at you, but you can’t really tell because of his hair. 

“That’s not creepy at all.” You kid, raising an eyebrow. 

“I go to school with you. I mean, with a school that’s so sports minded, it’s impossible to not know who you are.” He shrugs again, his shoulder rounding even more. You fight the urge to pretend to dust off your shoulders. Because you aren’t that conceded. Not when Vriska wasn’t around. 

“Oh.” Is the only thing you can think of to say. And when you realize how dumb that sounds you add, “What’s your name?” 

“Dave.” He answers, flicking his hair away from his face to look you over. His eyes are visible… and holy shit. They’re red. Dark, swirling red like his body is filled with molten lava and it was ready to spill over. The crystal clear rubies shine with compassion, love and wit. But there’s also a secret. Something hidden deep that he was trying to hide. 

Well, he wouldn’t keep it from you. 

“Well, Dave. What do you say we hang out a bit? I pissed off the girl I was with and now I’m all alone. I’d sure like to learn a thing or two from someone who can skate with no legs.” It’s your turn to nod in the direction of his friends. 

His red eyes widen in surprise before he relapses into his cool cover. “Whatever.” He mumbles and turns to head that way. You tag along behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another part to Puck's AU. Includes PB&J feels and some possible blooming bromance?

For being so extremely well liked, this guy is an extreme dorkasaurus. It’s obvious that he has athletic grace, but he’s just too goddamn goofy to pay attention and learn the moves Tavros is trying to teach him. 

“Was that alright?” his nose is wrinkled up in a satisfied grin. Shining white teeth contrasted with his dark skin and the dark blue of his eyes didn’t fit with the slant of them exactly. But it worked. Whoever his parents were, had to be lookers. Whatever race they were. He’d just finished a simple hop, keeping his feet on the board and landing without falling over. Tavros was grinning too, clapping his hands together excitedly. “What’d you think, Dave?” 

Oh shit. He was talking to you again. You sure as hell weren’t used to people doing that. Forcing down a stammer, you reply. “It was cool, I guess. For a newb.” Fuck. Fuck you did _not_ just call John Egbert a newb. That was sure as hell going to scar you for the rest of your life. But he doesn’t seem upset or anything. In fact, his grin widens just a little bit before he turns back to Tavros to learn another move. 

Doesn’t he know who you are? You’d only had at least 2 classes together for your entire high school career. Maybe someone had dared him to hang out with you on your island of misfit friends. He wasn’t even hanging out with _you_ at the moment, either. He and Tav were working on their boards (Tav borrowed yours because his got wrecked) and you and Gamzee were sitting against the side of a ramp watching the two of them. 

Maybe you should say something to him? Ask him if he knows who the fuck you are? Why isn’t he terrified like everyone else? Something about this whole situation just wasn’t sitting right in your gut.

“You know you’ve got a motherfuckin’ voice, my brother. You should up and use it sometime.” Gamzee’s mellow voice cuts into. “What’s on your mind?” 

“No offense, dude. But I don’t even know you.” You answer, compulsively flipping your blonde hair over your eyes. It’d been a habit for as long as you can remember. When Bro used to give you bad hackjobs, you’d cry and steal his sunglasses until it grew back out again. It’d been a long, _long_ time since he’d touched your hair with any kind of sharp object, because the last time he’d tried you pulled out a blade and called a strife. Not that you won or anything, but he got the message. 

“You’ve just got this fucking cloud hanging over you and it’s ruining my motherfuckin’ mood.” You turn to face him and his eyes are watching Tavros with complete concentration. As if he were studying every move every muscle made in his body. “Figured you’d wanna all up and talk about it.” 

“Yeah. Well I don’t. Thanks though.” You reject him. But that sounds a little too harsh. You weren’t harsh. Everyone just thought you were. “So, how’d you meet Tavros?” you add, just to make you seem a little friendly. But to you, it just sounded completely strange.

“It was a motherfuckin’ miracle man. I swear.” He smiles that creepy ass smile again. “You know a brother by the name Karkat?” 

“Rings a bell.” You nod, bringing a knee up to rest your chin on. Tav and John had moved into moves that required actually motion now and John’s board was going everywhere. Underneath your hair, you watch them as Tav zooms around, trying to help John without being assertive and/or mean. 

“Tiny dude’s my cousin. He goes to you and Tav’s school and we met and all up and fell in love at one of his poetry slams. Best day of my motherfuckin’ life.” He smiles again, but this time it’s a softer and more reminiscent. 

“Never pegged Tav as gay, though.” Not that there was anything wrong with that. You know for a fact that your brother swings for left field from time to time and he’d taught you to never judge someone by who they love. The first time you’d called someone gay, he’d nearly skewered you to the front door. 

“I don’t think he was at first, my brother.” Gamzee laughs. It sounds like a honking bicycle horn. “Sometimes I up and think that I motherfuckin’ scared him into it. I get into these, I don’t know man, Tav calls them my ‘mood swings’. Sometimes I black out and all up and turn into something mean. Something downright coldblooded and near murderous, my brother. But he always brings me back. I think that’s why I fuckin’ love him so much. My own personal, motherfuckin’ miracle.” 

“Oh.” Is the only thing you can think of to say. 

“Mind if I guess what’s up in that thinkin’ pan of yours, motherfucker?” he inquires. 

“What kind of fucking euphemism for mind is _thinking pan_?” You laugh so hard you almost snort.

He ignores you and begins his psychoanalysis anyway. “I all up and think that you’re scared of this dude for some reason.” Long fingers point in John’s direction. “Tav told me that you don’t really like hanging out with anybody. Something all up and made you lose your cool motherfuckin’ years ago. I think that’s total motherfuckin’ bullshit.” 

“Dude, what the fuck do you even know-“

“Its dumb as fuck to live in the past. Life is all up and motherfuckin’ happening now. You’re missing out on some motherfucking miracles right in front of your face.” He nods to himself. Kind of a gentle waving of his head to add emphasis to his statement. 

“Wow. This shit is hard.” You’d been so caught up in your conversation with this crazy stoner dude that you hadn’t noticed Tav and John had stopped skating and were sitting right in front of you. 

“It, uh. It takes a bunch of practice!” Tavros’s cheeks are flushed with exertion and there’s a confident smile almost cracking his face in two. A smile that’s matched on Gamzee’s long, sallow face. 

“How long have you been skating?” John crosses his legs underneath him. He’s closest to you and you can see the light sheen of sweat on his forehead and the way his V neck T-shirt is displaying just the right amount of dark skin. 

“Wow, uh. For as long as I can remember, I guess. Dave and I used to come here all the time.” He pushes his lips up so that the top one touches the small silver ring hanging from the middle. 

“You’re really good. I didn’t get to see you skate though. Are you any good?” He turns his smile to you. Shit. 

“He was using my board.” It sounds like a pitiful excuse. But it’s the truth. Funny how that works out. 

“I know that. But you didn’t answer my question.” His slanted eyes narrow out even more and your heart starts pounding. What the fuck is he trying to do, interrogate you? 

“What question?” 

“Are you any good at skating?” he repeats himself. Now his blue tinted eyes are shining with mischievousness and it’s making you itchy with nerves. 

“You could say that.” You shrug. Gamzee is staring you down… hard. And it’s not doing anything to help with your rising blood pressure. “But I’ve been doing it for a while now. Tavros is the best I know, though.” 

“Ain’t that the motherfuckin’ truth?” Gamzee speaks up. He tugs at the sleeve of Tav’s T-shirt with a needy little sound that comes from the back of his throat. 

“Gamzee, what-“ 

“Come motherfuckin’ here.” He nearly growls. Tav gives in and scoots over for a snuggle that would make any yaoi fangirl scream in delight. Really, you can feel your nose starting to spew blood now. Its sickening how fucking cute they are. Makes you strait up want to blow chunks everywhere. But for some unknown goddamn reason you can’t tear your fiery red retinas away. 

With the way Gamzee looks at your friend it’s like he’s the greatest thing on planet earth. It’s just the two of them looking into each other’s eyes. No one else in the world but them. 

“Uh, so this is getting to be sufficiently awkward.” John clears his throat. 

“Agreed.” You nod, rerouting your stare to the ground you’re sitting on. 

“So is this what you do for fun? Watch these two make goo goo eyes at each other?” he smirks over the thick frames of his designer glasses. 

“What? This isn’t even a thing! I just came along with them today because…” you can’t finish your sentence because what the fuck does he care anyway? Its not like you to spill your guts to a random stranger. Whether or not that stranger was the most popular dude you’d ever laid your eyes on was besides the fucking point. 

“Because why?” he prods. You hate it when people prod. 

“Because of reasons.” You hunch your shoulders over and cross your arms over your knees. 

“You’re funny.” He snorts, papping you on the shoulder. 

What the fuck is this bullshit? Why was he even talking to you? Someone had to have put him up to it because no one that went to your school would talk to you without having a reason. It was like, tradition or something. You were a no-fly zone. Restricted area. Cursed. 

“You know, I know I’ve seen you before somewhere. I just can’t place it.” He taps a finger to the tip of his chin in mock wonderment. 

“I told you that I go to your school.” You mumble. 

“What?” 

“I said I told you that I go to school with you. Almost three classes a day together for the last 3 fucking years of my life. History? Music Appreciation? English? Any of those ring a bell?” You rant. Great. Now he’d put two and two together and realize that you were the kid with the blade. Here it comes. A solid verbal punch strait in the gut, just like every other time you’d tried to make a new friend. 

“Oh.” Is his only reply, only making the wait for the rejection even longer. You fight the urge to just get up and walk away now. “Oh! You’re the dude that always laughs at me! I remember you now. Dave… Dave Stiles? Dave Symon? Dave-“

“Strider,” you interrupt with your correct name. “And I don’t always laugh at you.” 

“Yes you do! There’s always that one guy snickering at the pranks I pull and you’re him! I know it.” 

“That is most definitely not me, dude.” You shake your head even though he’s right. Some of that pranking stuff he pulls is just plain whack. Either that, or it results in someone’s hurt feelings and that just wasn’t cool. “Your pranks, or whatever, are all shit.” 

“No they aren’t!” he scoffs, his jaw falling open as if it were the first time someone had told him that. The eyes behind his designer glasses are sparkling with laughter and planning. As if he were coming up with the ultimate prank to pull on you. 

“Yeah, dude, they are.” You nod your head. 

“Oh fuck you, I’m the best prankster there is.” He waves a nonchalant hand through the air to wave away the comment. 

“And I’m the Queen of England.” Far from your best comeback but it worked. 

“Well it’s absolutely just _loverly_ to meet you.” He lapses into a horrible British accent and stands up. He pretends to use the tips of his fingers to hold and invisible skirt up so he can give you a proper curtsy with a foot cross and everything. “Though I was under the impression that you were a douchbag by the name of Dave Strider.” 

That makes you laugh. Like, honest to goodness laughter that you hadn’t felt in ages. Not since Freshman year. Not since ever before that. Guffaws are galloping up your throat at full force and you can’t stop them. 

“I can’t possibly grasp what’s so funny good sir.” There goes that accent again and your sides are hurting because you’re laughing too hard. 

“That’s a sound I motherfuckin’ love to hear.” Gamzee says and his face is cracked in two with a giant pointed grin. This time, it doesn’t scare you as much as it used to. 

==>

The sun had gone down a while ago and the dull lamp lights had come on. The concrete was hurting your ass and conversation was dwindling, but neither of you were making a move to get up and leave first. Tavros and the big guy (Gamzee was his name? You could have sworn it was motherfucker) had left at dusk and that was almost 2 hours ago. 

“I can’t believe you like that piece of shit movie.” Dave scoffs at you, just as he’d done about the last three movies you’d mentioned. 

“Oh, come on! You know you like it. Complete classic.” You counter. 

“I’m not going to deny that I’ve watched it a few times. But just to make fun of it. I can’t believe anyone can like it for anything other than ironic purposes.” All you can see is the sly grin underneath his mop of blonde hair. He’s leaning back on the heels of his hands and his sharp shoulders are jutting upwards in a way that seems complete uncomfortable. 

You’d been talking for a long… long time. Longer than you’ve talked to anyone before. Other than Jade, maybe. But Jade always wanted to talk about feelings and shit that made you really uncomfortable. With Dave the conversation came easy. Joke after joke after pun after snide comment. You’d made fun of his taste in classic rock and horrible 80’s rap and he’d returned by calling you a hipster because you’d said he’d never heard of anything you’d listened to. You both liked the same movies and shows, just in different ways. Both of you had a common love with Pokémon, just for the nostalgia, though your request for a battle as soon as possible only made him snicker. 

He was in your grade. And had a few classes with you, but for some reason he tried avoiding the subject of school as much as possible. When you’d asked if he got bullied a lot he just kind of snickered and blew you off. He said he’d lived with his older brother since he was ten. You shared that you lived with Dad and Jade in a sort of makeshift family. Normally, talking about things like that made you kind of sad… But talking to Dave made it easier somehow, though your mind couldn’t figure out how. 

People didn’t ever really talk to you. There were a few exceptions. Jade. Rose, when she was feeling the need to play psychotherapist, Vriska when she was dead drunk… But other than that people just kind of hung out with you. It was odd, thinking that you hardly knew any of your so called friends. That would have to change straight away. 

“Wow this silence is killing me.” He mocked, angling his head towards you. You’d been caught up in your own thoughts for a moment. “Let me in on what’s cooking in your mind stew.” 

“Gold star for the metaphor.” You give him a slow clapped applause. 

“Got plenty more where that came from.” He smirks. 

“God, I hope they aren’t all that shitty.” You retort. “I was just thinking that I’ve never really sat down and talked with anyone before. Not this much anyway.” 

“What-“he starts. Probably some snide remark. But he changes his mind. “Yeah. Uh, me either.” He lowers himself back onto his elbows and rubs at the bottom half of his face. “I don’t have many friends.” 

“I can’t imagine why.” You lean an ear on your shoulder and look at him sideways. He snorts, one corner of his mouth turning up. His lips are really full. And there’s a little beauty mark along the right curve of his top lip that’s kind of alluring. Or it would be is you were into guys like that. Because you really aren’t. Or at least you think you aren’t… Because you’ve never really met anyone as hot as Dave, even if he does cover up half his face with his hair. “You’re a cool dude.” 

“Well am I ever proud to have earned that status of approval from _the_ John Egbert.” He mocks. 

“You should be. It’s quite the honor. People line up for miles to get my blessing about their social status.” You say. 

“Little do they know, all they have to do is save your pretty face from getting smacked with a cripples skateboard.” He smiles again and there’s a certain twang in your heart that you’ve never felt before. And it came when he called your face pretty. 

You’re completely ready to retort, when an incessant buzzing begins in your pocket. Except its not the long, droning buzz that comes with a phone call. Someone is pestering you over and over and over and over again. “Gimme a sec.” you say, fishing the high tech PDA from your front pocket. It’s a loner from your dad and it wasn’t the most updated thing on the market. But damn if it kept your organized and in touch with people. 

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:36—

GG: john  
GG: hey john where are you?  
GG: im really bored. dads baking and the whole house smells good and its warm and ill fall asleep if you don’t get home soon.  
GG: john!!  
GG: hey joooooooohn  
GG: whoops. Eight os there. just like vriska hehe :)  
GG: are you with her?  
GG: I pestered her and she said you werent there  
GG: dad wants to know when you’re getting home  
GG: its getting late you know, hes going to start worrying.  
EB: jade.  
EB: shoosh.

You scratch the back of your neck to wait for her reply. “Its my sister.” You explain. Dave only shrugs, directing his cool stare at the sky overhead that’s starting to spot with little white stars. The clock on the front of your PDA says its well past nine. You’d stayed out later before, but only for parties and things of that nature on the weekends. Shit, Dad _would_ worry. 

“Getting late?” Dave asks. In reply your phone buzzes again. 

GG: where are you?  
EB: i’m at the skate park with a friend. be home in a bit, promise.  
GG: you cant skateboard, sillypants! :p  
EB: i was trying to learn!  
GG: which friend? do i know him?  
EB: i’ll talk to you at home jade.  
EB: give me 20 minutes.  
GG: you better believe youll talk to me at home :)

\--gardenGnostic [GG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 21:42—

“Yeah. I guess it is. I mean, I stay out pretty late sometimes, but only on the weekends.” You explain. 

“My bro’s probably just happy to have me out of his hair.” Dave sits up, rolling his shoulders around to ease the stiffness from leaning on them for so long. “Scratch that. I bet he doesn’t even know I’m gone. When I get home I bet you a whole fucking dollar bill that he’s balls deep in smuppets.” 

“Smuppets?” you ask. If that’s what it sounds like then maybe…

“You don’t want to know,” Dave warns. Just as you thought. Gross. 

“Hey, you got a chumhandle?” you ask, refusing to let this silence get awkward. 

“I thought I was the only one that used Pesterchum!” he sounds way more excited than you thought he would. “My bro and I, I mean. We use that shit all the time.” 

“Most of my friends have one. Seemed pretty common.” You shrug, holding your phone out to him with your Chums list pulled up. “Here. Put yours in.” 

“Uh,” he stammers, delicately taking the phone from you. “Alright then.” You wait politely for him to finish and when he returns the phone you check the name. 

“Turntech Godhead. Nice.” You nod, shoving your phone back in your pocket. It’s a ten minute drive back home and you need to stop and eat somewhere so you can tell Dad you’re too full for cake with a straight face. Of course, you’ll take a slice up to your room, just to be nice. But it goes straight in the toilet as soon as you get the chance. “Mines EctoBiologist.” 

“That’s quite an interesting chumhandle you’ve got there.” he cocks an eyebrow. Or at least you think he does. 

“Yeah well, you know.” You pretend to brush your shoulders off. “I was big on genetics when I was a kid. Interest kind of faded when I actually started taking biology classes.” You push yourself up and stand with a stretch that arches your back. “I guess I should head home.” 

“Oh.” He sounds disappointed. It damn near breaks your heart. 

“I know, dude. We were having so much fun. But I think my ass is seriously flat from sitting on concrete so long. Can’t lose the tushy. The ladies love the tushy.” You pat your own ass and he kind of smirks. “Do you, like, need a ride home or something? I’ve got plenty of gas.” Your little white car can go for miles on five bucks.

He waves your suggestion away. “I live like a block away.” 

“But its dark.” You counter. “There are some creepy people out at night.” 

“I can handle myself.” 

“You sure? It’s no problem.” 

“No, dude. I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” 

“Aaaalright then.” You pretend to walk away, but you keep looking at him, dangling your keys from one finger. 

“Dude, just go the fuck away.” He stands too. His face is completely serious, but something in your tone lets you know he’s joking. 

“Cool.” You twirl your keys around with a jingle. “Talk to you later, bro.” 

“Later.” He waves a peace sign in your direction before loping away. Turning before you have the chance to look at his ass, you copy him and lope away too. 

\------

After a thorough talk with Jade in which she asked every question possible (What moves did you learn? Who was there? I know all those guys! Why didn’t you invite me? I’m coming with you next time, okay? And you have to come with me to the shooting range after, okay? What do you mean you’re tired?) you plop down in the squeaky desk chair in front of your laptop. There’s a pretty hefty math packet that you need to at least start on before bed. Bing Crosby’s eyes are twinkling up at you from the sticker covering the majority of your computer and you heave a sigh. There was no point in fighting the look of this soulful man. But after one quick look online. Just to see if anyone else was doing the same thing as you, right?

You open your computer, despite the seemingly dirty look from the sticker form of your father’s idol and log into Pesterchum. 

Rose is online, but at this time, she’s either busy writing or she’s about to go to bed. Karkat’s handle appears but you’re not in the mood to deal with him, even if you want to question him about his tall, juggalo cousin. Jade’s on, but she’s in the next room so that’s just dumb. Feferi. Sollux. Terezi. Nope, nope, nope. There was no one you really wanted to talk to… Except. 

You use your fingertips to hover over the new name in your list of contacts before double clicking to open a new window. 

\--ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 22:52--

EB: i see you made it home alright.  
TG: no actually  
TG: im in the back of a pedophiles van  
TG: hes letting me use his wi-fi  
TG: if you know what i mean  
EB: very funny :p  
TG: im being dead serious dude  
TG: like  
TG: im so scared for my innocence right now  
TG: you dont even understand  
EB: i could come save you if you want. i work wonders with a hammer.  
TG: its cool  
EB: you sure you don’t need me to come and save you from big bad Uncle Touchy?  
TG: ill be sure to let you know if things take a turn for the worst.  
TG: youll be number one  
TG: i swear to it  
TG: be calling up on you like youre ghostbusters  
EB: hehe

Your face stretches into an even bigger and bigger grin as you go back and forth with your new friend. Something tells you that math homework will have to wait for later.


	3. The Elite Writers Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A subplot of Puck's Coolkid John AU in which the writing club argues and Eridan writes something really gross.

Your name is Rose Lalonde and you really wish your mother would stop trying to intoxicate your company. With every swallow she takes of her own martini, she makes it harder and harder to focus on the task at hand. That task being attending to the needs of your ever so sloppy writing club. 

Honestly, no one was paying a lick of attention in the first place. Eridan and Karkat had walked in the door midst argument and Kanaya, of course, was trying to mediate between the seething idiots to keep them from ripping each other to shreds. It is a rare day when anyone knows what the fuck they’re actually arguing about. 

“Just listen to me, you shitheaded douchenozzle!” Karkat is screaming. Always the screaming with that one. For a little guy he sure has a hell of a lot of vocal power. “I’m just saying that feelings can be divided into different sections! Like, fucking quadrants or some shit. I makes fucking sense, if you actually take the time out of admiring yourself in the mirror for two dicksucking seconds! They could be arranged in quadrants or something. Hate, love, friendship and some fucking other shit, I don’t know.” 

Eridan snorts and pushes his thick glasses back up his long nose, making sure to flex every muscle in his arm as he does so. He really is quite good looking, what with swim-and-and-football-developed muscles and everything. His thirst for affection was just a huge turn-off. It was a shame, really. He could be so happy if he weren’t so obsessive. “Quadrants have four parts, chum for brains. What, I emplore you, is the fourth? Please, please fill me in. I am just fucking _shivering_ in my boots to know.” 

“What if the last one was for the person that just wants to help everyone?” Kanaya cuts in politely. Her slight Japanese accent is so charming, even _you_ find yourself smiling just the tiniest bit. Out of all of you, she has the most talent. Her work is downright beautiful and if you could do it without upsetting anyone, you’d opt for just publishing her. Of course, that would just start a riot between the four of you that would never dissipate, so you have to settle for Eridan’s least appalling piece, Karkat’s least confusing and Kanaya’s most intellectual. If there’s room left over for a wizard fic of your own design, then it’s been a good month. 

The four of you were lucky to be allowed the room in the school newspaper in the first place. Hardly anyone ever reviewed your section for feedback and if they did, it was hardly positive. Though no one ever bought a newspaper either. Media was a dying art in a school that focused more on their sports teams. You’re pretty sure that if John hadn’t recommended the Elite Writes for the paper it never would have happened. That was one advantage to befriending a legendary high school sports master. 

“Uh, guys? Can we kind of get working? The next paper comes out in a week and a half-“ your desperate attempt at getting them back on task is interrupted by an interjection from your quite sloshy mother

“I bro-brought the smot… shot glasses!” she stumbles in, somehow managing not to twist her ankles in her hells on the carpet. That was your mother, of course, all class. Eridan falls silent, and Karkat’s angry breathing is audible in the air. 

Kanaya smiles and bats her eyelashes against her dark cheeks. “No thank you, Ms. Lalonde.” 

“Oh, pleeeease!” Your mother waves a hand through the air with an unnecessary giggle. “Ms. Lalonde was my moff-mother.” She takes a wobbling step and thrusts a bottle of expensive whisky into Eridan’s hands. “Here ya go, sweat-swee… sweetie pie. Why don’t you take a lil’ sip for momma?”

“Oh. Oh, I’m not… I’m not exactly sure what to…” Eridan trails off. He has that look in his eye. That sparkle he gets when he falls in love. Oh, for fucks sake. 

“Oh c’mon. You know you wanna try smo… sm… oh fuck it. Just take a sip,” she pushes. 

“Mother, we are trying to get a little work done here.” You roll your eyes. 

“Oh, well _excuuuuse_ me.” She grimaces. “I can see when I’m less important than wix-wizord-wizards and gay smut.” With that she leaves the room, shutting the door with a forced quietness behind her. It will be approximately twelve minutes until she barges in again as if nothing happened. You’ve got that long to get some work done. 

“Ro. Ro.” Eridan practically crawls over to you, the whiskey bottle rolling onto the floor to be forgotten. “Holy fuck me, Ro, your mom is hot.” 

“If you would be so kind as to never say that to me again.” You sneer. 

“What’s her name? I have to know.” The purple color of his eyes is dancing with desire and you shiver at the thoughts coursing through his head. “I must know that name to match that angelic face! That melodic voice and that tender grace. Please, Ro, you have to tell me her name.” 

“Against my better judgement, her name is Roxy. Can we get back to work now?” You shake him off of you. He falls back on the carpet with a stunned expression as if this knew knowledge has hit him like a train. He’s pacified at the moment but you know you’ll regret telling him sooner or later. At least he and Karkat’s argument has been halted for the time being. “Now, which piece is everyone planning on submitting for next month’s publication? I have a story I’m quite proud of and if everyone else is alright with that-“ 

“Oh come on, Rose. No one wants to read your less than adequate wizard yaoi, okay?” Karkat cuts in, crossing his arms across his chest with a signature scowl. His round face looks so friendly when and if he cracks a smile that isn’t because someone just got hurt. “The people are interested in my unique takes on every day matters.”

“I am pretty sure that more people want to read my stories than your rants about Peanut Butter versus real butter.” You point your pen at him threateningly. He bites back a retort and you smirk with satisfaction. “What are you planning on putting in this time anyway?” 

“I actually wrote a story, thank you very fucking much. It’s damn near Shakespearian, it’s so goddamn good. People will line up around our humble little prison-called-school just for me to let them kiss my feet because my story is, in fact, so blasphemously good.” He explains.

“Hand it over then.” You hold out an open palm. 

“Rose, I’ve taken the liberty of prereading the story for publication.” Kanaya catches your eye with a barely distinguishable wink. A wink that means she’s editing out all the impossible to read tidbits. She and Terezi are the only people that seem to have the literal tolerance for his ramblings. “I must say that around all the waffle, it is a quite compelling story.” 

“Bless you, Kan.” You breath out a sigh of relief. 

“What the everloving fuck do you mean by ‘ _waffle_ ’?” Karkat starts with his yelling again. “Every word I wrote was golden and you know it.” 

“My apologies, Karkat.” She nods at him. This blatant yet kind apology throws him off guard and he holds his tongue. 

“I know Kanaya has something great as always.” You give her a smile which she returns, making your heart do a sort of somersault that you have to remember to write about later. “I trust you’ll give it to me in the next few days.” 

“Naturally.” 

“Excellent, one problem solved.” You turn your gaze back on Eridan. “And what do you have for us?” 

“W-what?” He does a double take before he can actually focus on you. Wow, he’d actually been lost in dreamland. 

“I hate to ask, but what are you going to want published?” you ask with a wince at your own words. 

In short, every word Eridan writes is about he and his imaginary sex life with people that he may or may not know in real life. Most of the time, you change the names of the girls and boys in the stories. Otherwise the people they were based off would be completely mortified. There isn’t a position, method or type of sex he hasn’t touched on at least once. Recently he’s been favoring, dare you even think it, water sports. If you read one word about him peeing on someone else you’ll have to scream. 

“Oh, I changed my mind. I have to write something else now. Struck with sudden inspiration, if you will. Don’t worry, doll. You’ll love this one.” He grins. 

“So help me, Eridan Ampora, if you write a fucking story about my mother I will quite literally flip a table.” 

“I suggest you limber up your arms then.” His smirk deepens and your heart fills with dread. 

\---

“Roooooooose!” You hear Vriska’s voice before you see her running down the long school hall, shoving the students that got in her way into the lockers. “Rose! Rose! You have to fucking read this!” she pants, finally reaching you as your gently shut your locker door. 

“Read what?” You quirk an eyebrow at your overzealous friend. Her long, wild, dark hair is windblown and messy and her glasses are askew. She holds out a deep pink notebook with an evil grin. 

“Hurry! Before he finds out I took it!” She waves the book around and you pluck it from her fingers. 

“This isn’t someone’s private journal, is it?” You know how it feels to have your diary read. John got a hold of it the first time he ever came over. You left the room for nearly half a second and when you returned he was sprawled across the knitted shawl on your bed, flipping through you most interpersonal thoughts. It seemed to be a challenge of how fast one could find Rose’s journal every time more than one friend ventured to her house. 

“No, no. Just read it. It’s priceless. Gold.” Her grin widens to display her slightly more pointed canine teeth. They almost matched Kanaya’s in their vampiric nature. Almost. 

“Can I read it in class?” you ask. The mental clock you keep in your mind is winding down and the first period of the day is going to start soon. Being late is not on your list of things to do today. 

“I don’t think you’ll really want to. Just crack it open now! Pretty please?” She clasps her hands together, dramatically and blinks up at you like a lost puppy. Her bottom lip quivers ever so slightly and you give in with a sigh. 

“Fine.” You flip the book open to a random page and glance down at the text. 

_Her blonde hair glistened with the sweat of exertion and the glassiness of her intoxicated eyes reflected my face back at me as I looked into them, thrusting inside her over and over. I bite my lip, focusing on the warm, smooth slide of her heat against mine._

_“Erdian…. Fuck, E-Eridan! Eridan!” she cries out, arching her back._

_“Oh, Rox…” I returned her words with a moan.”_

Your heart stops dead right there and Vriska starts to laugh. The notebook falls from your hands and plops on the floor with an echo. You kick it away as if it might be contagious. “What the actual fuck did I just read?” you whisper.

“Hot, huh?” She giggles. 

“Was that a smut fic… About my mother and… and…” You shudder violently. An eye twitch can’t be far behind. You can feel it now. Nervous muscles are retracting and contracting and your eye is going to start twitching. 

“Eridan!” she shouts, doubling over with her guffaws. There it goes. A strong twitch. Fuck. After what seems like an eternity of her laughing it up, she straightens, wiping tears from her blue eyes. “Oh man that was great.” 

“That was the polar opposite of anything great.” You say monotonously. If you have ever been more grossed out in your existence, you can’t remember it. And there was a thousand percent chance that you were permanently scarred from the tidbit you read. 

“I thought it was kind of hot! And he’s proud of it. The whole team got to read a bit of it-“

“He’s been passing this around?!” you nearly shout. “How many people-?”

“Like I said, the team. Egbert, Harley, Vantas, the usual.” She shrugs, a permanent smirk plastered on her thin face. 

“Oh my fucking god.” You slump against your locker and only just prevent yourself from sliding down like you were in a dramatic teenage film. Class was about to start and there was no time to fix this now. Free period was going to be dedicated to burning this momsmut.

\---

“But Ro!” Eridan tries to snatch his book from you, but you jerk away, yet again. “This is my masterpiece! I worked so hard on it! At least let me keep it to myself!” 

“There is no way in hell that I’d ever let this thing see the light of day again,” you seethe. 

“I thought it was pretty neat!” Jade chimes in. Out of all the days she could chose to spend her off periods with the writers; she had to pick this one. “He’s kinda smart about positions and stuff. It sure wasn’t like any sort of sex fiction I’ve ever read.” She grins. If it were possible to add a heart emoticon to spoken word, there would be one in her last sentence. 

“Please, Jade. Please don’t encourage him.” You shudder again. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you literally write about gay wizards!” Karkat cuts in with a growl. “Let him have his fun. The fic was really good. As long as it doesn’t take up any of my space. I have a lot of social commentaries to make here.” 

“You cannot seriously think I’m going to allow this in the publication.” You scoff. They were joking. They had to be joking. 

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever written, Ro!” Eridan pleas. “It has to go in.” 

You laugh at that, tossing the notebook on the table to place your head firmly in your hands in a facepalm x2 combo. 

“I think I’m getting a migrane,” you state, grinding your fingers into your forehead. Whatever were you going to do with your friends?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave watches John at Soccer practice, tastes Daddy Egbert's cooking and inspires a strange dream.

You don’t have a clue why you’re sitting here. The sun is bright and hot against the back of your neck and the hardness of the metal bench is really hurting your ass. You had every notion to just get the hell up and blow this pop stand, but you kept your ass planted like a tree. 

Egbert had invited you to watch soccer practice before the two of you hung out. Why you’d accepted was completely unfathomable, but here you were, watching as he zoomed up and down the field, ready for any pass and making every goal he could. Every feat he managed was coupled with a derptastic little dance that made the corners of your mouth turn up. This dude made you smile way more than you were comfortable with. At least he wasn’t here to see it this time. Because when he saw you smiling, he got this stupid little smirk that you just wanted to slap off. 

Over the last couple of days, you’d been chatting it up with Egbert. Your pesterlogs were miles long and he spoke to you in the halls, much to the curious stares of your classmates. For someone so far up the social latter, he was a bit clueless to gossip. The yelp he caused by using a shock buzzer attached to him just the morning almost caused an entire hallway of kids to simultaneously shit their pants in fear. Their silence only made John think he’d been _that much_ greater at pranking. Which he wasn’t. 

It was amazing that anyone put up with his pranks and douchebaggery. He tends to take things a little bit too far and he never feels sorry when people get hurt because of a prank gone wrong. But, you begrudgingly admit, there is a certain charm in his laughter and the way his slanted, blue eyes crinkled in the corners when he thinks he’s getting away with something. 

But you aren’t getting attached. You won’t let yourself. Because eventually, he’s going to learn that you were the freak kid who pulled a sword on a bully and that would scare him away. Just like it scared everyone else away. Friendship, to you, was a ticking time bomb and this one was bound to go off. 

“Hey, Dave!” A female voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You keep your cool, though, managing to hide your racing heartbeat as you turn to see who addressed you. 

A short girl with long, choppy, black hair plops onto the bench next to you with a goofy, bucktoothed grin. A very familiar bucktoothed grin. Her skin is dark, just like Egbert’s, but her slanted eyes are tinted with bright green streaks instead of John’s blue. You can guess who she is, but that’d be creepy. So you settle with asking “Do I know you?”

“I don’t think so!” she answers. Jesus, you can just hear the cutesy little Japanese emoticons dripping from her chipper, excited voice. “But I know all about you! John talks to you all the time. He’s my cousin, you know. I live with him and Daddy Egbert because my Pop Pop died. Don’t tell me you’re sorry about that, though. Because everyone says their sorry because it’s the most common thing to say when you hear of a death but you really aren’t sorry at all.” 

“I wasn’t going to.” You smirk. “Mind telling me your name?”

“Oh, I’m Jade Harley!” she sticks out her right hand and you take it, surprised at her grip as you shake hands. “And you’re Dave Strider!” 

“Does John really talk about me that much?” You muss the hair on the back of your head and shake the front portion into your eyes. 

“Well, I guess not that much. I’ve just known who you were for a very long time. You’re the guy that fought Andy Faster with a sword in Freshman year! That was _soooo_ cool!” she exclaims. You widen your eyes in surprise, even though she can’t really see your reaction. “Do you fight with anything else? Or is it just Katanas? My Pop Pop believed in heavy artillery and school is pretty much the only place I’m not packing some serious heat! I’ve had my concealed weapons license for as long as I can remember. Of course, I don’t go around shooting bullies, though I really wish I could.” 

“My brother keeps blades around the house. Razors, throwing stars, swords, knives…” you trail off, just in case you freaked her out. Something about this girl makes her seem like she’s a tough nut to crack. 

“That sounds awesome!” she claps her hands together excitedly. 

“You think so?” 

“I know so! Daddy Egbert won’t let me keep all my guns in the house. But he lets John keep all his hammers all over the place. It’s sexism, I tell you!” She crosses her arms and huffs for a moment before dissolving into a genuine grin. “But you’ll get to see that tonight, won’t you? John said you were coming home with us for dinner?” She poses the statement as a question. 

“I am?” You ask with an unsure shake of your head. “He just told me to watch him practice.” 

She giggles. “You’re silly, Dave.”

Whoa. No one in your entire life had ever called you silly before. “What do you mean?”

“Why would he have asked you to sit here in the hot sun like this unless he wanted to do something after? Why would you _agree_ to that unless _you_ wanted to do something afterwards. I swear, sometimes boys are so stupid.” The colon-“P” tongue-sticky-outy emoticon was audible. 

“Maybe I like making my ass fry like an egg on this hot metal, huh?” you challenge. “What if I actually wanted to sit in the sun until I look like a suckling pig? Ever think of that?” 

She giggled again and touched your arm. “Like I said, you’re silly.” 

You meet her statement with a calm “Pff” and a roll of your concealed eyes. 

“So do you like John as a friend? Or is it a like, _like_ kind of thing?” she asks. You blanch and she starts with the giggling again. “It’s totally alright, if you’re into him y’know.”

“I don’t even know you, chick.”

“I told you my name was Jade.” 

“That’s not what I meant.” You shake your head again. “Why the hell do you think I’d be crushing on _Egbert_? I mean, have you seen him?” 

“I live with him!” she laughs. “He can be a little mean sometimes and he’s not the brightest color in the crayon box but I do know he’s attractive. It runs in our blood!” 

The corners of your mouth turn up into a smirk. Seemed like this family was full of arrogance and lack of style. But Jade’s right. John Egbert is damn attractive. 

Sure, his teeth were a little goofy and he couldn’t see shit without his thick framed glasses. But he was perfectly built from years of sports and throwing hammers. You admit that you had a thing for tan skin coupled with light eyes. Sometimes when he showed up for school in a pastel colored, fitted, button-down shirt you found it hard to look away. 

“You’re thinking about how hot he is now, aren’t you? Gross!” she pushes your shoulder. 

“You’re crazy. Out of your fucking rocker.” You shoot her down, hiding the blush in your cheeks with a shake of your hair. 

“That may be so, but I think I’m on to something here. Because your hiding your face and Rose says that’s a way of trying to mask how you’re really feeling.” She says with an assured nod. 

“Who’s Rose, some sort of psychiatrist?” you scoff. 

“Basically. But I think she likes the term Therapist more. I could give you her chumhandle! If she can’t help you sort out your homo-feels for my cousin then no one can.”

“Because I have a massive boner just thinking about him, like, twenty-four hours a day. It really is a problem, you know. He’s like my own personal brand of sparkly vampire heroine. I’d fight off all the fucking wolves in Washington for this dude I just met a month or two again. Our one sided love is so deep, its near unfathomable.” You roll your eyes again. 

“I knew it!” 

“Wait, I was being sarcas-“ 

“Hey guys, ready to go?” 

You whip around to find a shirtless Egbert with a towel draped around his bare shoulders. The skin on his chest is shining with a light sheen of sweat and all his hair is pushed up and held in place by his glasses. As quick as possible, you avert your eyes, only to see Jade smirking to herself. 

“I’m glad you two met each other!” he grins. 

“You didn’t tell me he was so cool!” Jade gushes. You wince. 

“Yeah well, he’s not that cool.” Egbert waves away the comment. 

“Cooler than you’ll ever dream to be, Egbert. What was with the fucking dances you did down there? I’ve never seen anything so pathetic.” 

“All the greatest stars have their own signature moves.” He counters. 

“I hope they’re better than the ones you were pulling down there.” 

He throws his towel at your face and you deflect it with a swift movement of your hands. “Gross.” 

“You like it.” 

“Correction. Fucking gross.” 

“Will the two of you stop flirting? I’m hungry.” Jade cuts in. 

“We are _not_ flirting.” Both you and John yelp at the same time, making the entire stadium seem to fall into a blanketed awkward silence. For an excruciating moment no one speaks or moves or makes any noise at all until Jade doubles over in a fit of giggles. 

“Wow, you two are cute!” she says, wiping an imaginary tear from the corner of her eye. “Let’s go home. I’ll drive!” She’s the first to stand up. 

“Oh, no you’re not. I’ll be the one driving, thank you very much.” He pulls and ring of jingling keys from his pocket. You’ve grown familiar with this overly decorated pieces of metal from all the times he’d forced you to accept a ride home. Each key was a different color and there were miniature hammers and anime ghost things dangling all over the place. He was such a loser. Such an adorable, goddamn loser. 

“Come on, John, you never let me drive!” Jade crosses her arms with a royalty worthy pout. 

“That’s because you’re horrible at it,” he reasons. 

“But I have my boating liscense!” 

“That doesn’t mean you can _drive a car_.” 

With a shake of your head, you listen to the two of them argue like true brothers and sisters should. Not that you and your Bro ever had any sort of lengthy conversations. Any time you had a feelings jam or exchanged more than a maximum of twenty words it was behind your blades on the roof. If it weren’t for TV you wouldn’t know what normal sibling interaction was. 

The corners of your mouth lifts up again and you sit back to watch them argue. You push the thought of John just assuming that you’d come over to his house to the back of your mind because that’s just too friendly to think about right now. 

==>

“Uh, sorry about the mess.” You try to toe the dirty clothes strewn around your floor into a heap. Dave stands in the center of your room with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

“You should be apologizing for the crappy posters you have tacked up everywhere. Jeez, John I had no idea your taste in movies was so horrible. I’m so sorry.” He hangs his head like a man in mourning. 

“Hey! Those are all classic films! Each one is a work of art.” You argue, giving up on your clothes to straighten your tangled sheets. 

He strides over to your most favored poster and jabs at it with his thumb. “You consider Failure to Launch a classic work of art?”

“Okay, no. But Matthew McConaughey is the bomb.” 

“You’re not even trying to be ironic here, are you?” he shakes his head again. He seems to do that a lot. 

“Why would I try to be ironic?” you ask, picking up your comforter with both hands and giving it a hard shake before smoothing it over your bed. It’s wrinkled from being bunched up for so long, but you couldn’t do anything about that now. 

“Egbert, stop cleaning!” he warns. “Seriously. It doesn’t matter. My whole fucking apartment is ten times worse than this. Stop.” You raise your hands in mock surrender and plop down on the edge of your bed. He follows your example and walks over to seat himself in your desk chair. “Besides, if you knew I was coming, why didn’t you straighten up before?” 

“I wasn’t planning on it, actually. It was more of an assumption.” You push your glasses back up the bridge of your nose. It was impossible to plan anything with Dave. He tended to blow people off and deny that he ever said he would hang out. Sometimes it was hard to get him to even speak in a public place, but he was warming up. More and more, you found him smiling and he let more of his face show when it was just the two of you. 

“You just _assumed_ that I’d come home with you?” Dave smirks. 

“I guess?” 

“I’ll be the first to say that’s a little weird, dude.” He shrugs. “But I can’t complain. That’s the first real meal I’ve had in ages.” 

Dad had made a rack of backed ribs with his secret recipe potato salad and a salad with homemade dressing. You’d never seen someone eat as much as Dave. He’d piled his plate high with food and had two slices of cake afterwards. Dad was delighted. You couldn’t eat as much as you wanted because of training and Jade was lady-like and stopped after she’d had enough, so having someone eat his cooking so avidly made him grin from ear to ear. There were hardly any leftovers. 

“Doesn’t your Brother feed you?” you ask. 

“He gives me money to buy my own food. I’m a teenage boy so I get junk.” He shrugs. “I can’t cook for shit and I don’t even want to _try_ eating anything he makes.” He shudders. You must look worried because he shakes his head. “But he takes care of me. Don’t think anything bad of him… He’s only a few years older than I am. We’re partners in crime.” 

“I didn’t say anything!” you protest. “Can I ask where your parents are?” 

He shrugs. “We’ve got a dad around somewhere. He left before I was born. Mom died in a car crash when I was ten. Bro was seventeen.” 

“That’s awful!” You frown. “I’m really sorry.” 

He waves away your comment with another shrug. “I wouldn’t be the Dave you see here if it hadn’t have happened. Its whatever.” 

You reach out and place a hand on his knee, making him go rigid. But you don’t move. Because if your dad had taught you anything, it was that sometimes people needed affection, even if they didn’t like it. 

“My mom died, too. Cancer.” You admit. Though you’d never really told anyone about that. No one ever thought to ask. You were really too young to understand what was going on at the time. Just that Mom had to stay in the hospital a lot and all her hair fell out. Then one day Dad came home with red eyes and his tie wasn’t done up right and you knew something was wrong. He told you that your Mom wasn’t sick anymore. She was in a better place. 

There are still pictures of her around the house. You remember her face and the way she laughed at your jokes and played videogames with you. Sometimes you miss her, but you really aren’t sure why because Dad is the most perfect father _and_ mother that anyone could get lucky enough to have. Two years after Mom’s funeral Jade joined the family, bringing a much needed female presence into your life and now you can’t picture it being any other way. 

“Small world.” He states, covering his face with a curtain of blonde hair. 

“Yeah.” You trail off, bringing your hand back. Damn that hair. You were going to chop it all off one day. You liked being able to see Dave’s expressions. He tried to conceal them by keeping an impassive expression but his eyes always shined with what he was feeling. It was a pity that more people didn’t get to see him actually change facial expressions. 

“In the mood for a good feelings jam?” you ask. “Because I am.” 

Dave looks you over with a quick glance before giving yet another passive shrug. Your lips form a slight smile and you dive right in, racking your brain for something to start off with. Because it had been a long time since you’d told anyone but Jade anything you were feeling. 

\---

You know you’re in your room, but somehow your wall had turned into a huge, high definition screen. Where your bed used to be was a row of comfy theatre chairs. Except they weren’t hard and springy like the ones in actual movie theatres. They were huge and soft like Lazy Boys with pop corn and cup holders in between them. 

“Wow John. This movie fucking blows.” Dave is sitting next to you with a laugh on his lips. He grabs a handful of the fluffy, buttery popcorn from the bowl in between your two chairs and shoves it in his mouth. His laugh is infectious and you find yourself giggling along. 

“It is pretty bad, isn’t it?” You snort, staring at the screen. You can’t even remember what movie you were watching, but the actors on stage were horrible and the plot sure as hell didn’t seem to be going anywhere. Karkat must have given you this one. 

“Its horrible! Look!” Dave points to the screen as a female character falls dramatically to the ground after the death of a minor character. She’s sobbing and crying and carrying on. Somehow that just makes you laugh harder. 

“Okay wow. That _is_ bad.” You can hardly breath, you’re laughing so hard. Dave slaps at your knee, doubled over with guffaws. He flies back to bounce against the back of his chair with tears rolling from his crimson eyes. Those eyes meet yours and you laugh together, sharing in each other’s glee. 

“I don’t even know what’s so funny anymore.” He’s grinning, his straight teeth displayed like you’d never seen them before. The laughter had died down to spontaneous giggles that made you start laughing all over again. 

You close your eyes for one second and when you open them again his face is right next to yours. There’s mint in his breath as it mingles with yours while the two of you laugh at each other. 

“You know, I love your eyes when you smile.” He says, raising a hand to trace his finger tips lightly on your cheek under your left eye. 

You blush and smile like an idiot. “Thanks. Same to you.” You lean into his touch and he places his palm flat on the side of your face. 

“Wow, John. You’re really… You’re really attractive.” He giggles. So uncharacteristic. He’s acting so _not_ like himself that it’s starting to scare you… But you might as well take advantage of this moment. 

“Not as attractive as you.” You bat your eyelashes. He smiles, moving his hand again so that his fingers traced the outline of your lips. You start laughing again and he laughs, too, still touching you. His face keeps getting closer and closer and there’s no way in hell that you’re going to pull away because the feeling in your gut is amazing. 

“Mmm. I bet you taste as good as your Dad’s cooking.” He hums before giggling. 

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand out of habit. He pulls it away with a momentary serious frown. “I don’t know whether or not to take that as a compliment.” You snicker. 

“The best compliment I can come up with right now. And that’s really sad.” He beams. “Can I kiss you?” 

“I don’t see why not.”

Without a reply, he’s leaning over the armrest of his chair to press his lips against yours. They’re chapped but smooth and they move perfectly against yours like clockwork. His fingers find their way into your hair and you smile against his mouth. The movie is completely forgotten as you kiss Dave. 

You’re kissing Dave Strider and you feel so fucking good. 

When he pulls back, you smile. “Wow.” 

“Yeah.” He starts laughing again. Which starts you laughing. He tugs on the back of our hair and you rest your forehead on his as the two of you cackle like school girls. 

Suddenly, the room is burning with heat. Pale orange light shines up from the floor and you look around to see the other seats in your room falling into a pit of molten lava. 

“Shit!”

“Yeah, shit! What the-“ 

“Move over!” Dave yelped, climbing from his seat into yours to straddle your lap. The both of you watch as his chair sinks into the molten lava floor. Yours doesn’t seem to be affected by the flames. Maybe it’s because it’s the one in the center of the room? That doesn’t matter now. What matters is that Dave is in your lap with his hands laced together behind your head. 

You run your palms down his back, feeling the heat of his skin through his thin T-shirt. He shudders, even though the room is stiflingly hot. You can’t breathe. You can’t think. All you can do is feel as Dave raises his hips and brings them back down slowly, making sure to touch every pressure point in your boy as he does so. 

He repeats the gesture and this time your arch your back and raise up to meet him in the middle, drawing a breathy moan from the back of his throat. 

“Mmm, John.” He murmurs, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Then the laughter starts again and the both of you are grinding and touching and groaning between giggles. 

 

And then you wake up. 

And you’re in your dark room, staring at the ceiling by the light of your old fashioned screen saver flashing across your computer screen. There’s no screen on the wall and there are no chairs or popcorn or lava. 

The clock on your bedside table says that it’s nearly three in the morning. You’d driven Dave home at a little past midnight, well past the time any of your other friends had stayed over. The two of you had talked about everything imaginable and by the time you’d realized what time it was you were both weary eyed and yawning. He’d only gone home because he refused to stay the night. He claimed that if he were caught wearing Egbert duds he might die of embarrassment. 

“Shit.” You rub your face, grinding the heels of your hands into your eyes to rub the sleep from them before you notice a pressure in your pajama pants. 

You lift the covers and see a tent between your legs. 

“Shit.” You repeat, sitting up. You’d never gotten a hard on for anyone in your sleep before. Maybe it was a good thing that he hadn’t stayed over.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its John's birthday!! Or at least it was 13 minutes ago -_-   
> Happy belated 4/13 everyone!

People buzz by you in the hall, chatting amongst themselves. As per usual, they’re ignoring you like you’re just a shadow. A smudge at the edge of their vision. But they don’t specifically steer clear of you now. You don’t know when the change happened, but somewhere along the last few months, people had stopped talking about you when they thought you didn’t hear. They didn’t flinch when you inhaled too sharply. They just sort of ignored you. 

It had to be John’s doing. He must have collectively talked to everyone in your entire school and told them to leave you the fuck alone… Yeah. Because that was totally possible. But you were still pretty sure that this whole personality shift from your classmates had something to do with your blossoming friendship with John Egbert. As far as you know, he’s still completely oblivious to your endeavors of Freshman year. 

You tell yourself that you don’t tell him because it’s a stupid thing to bring up. But you know the real reason is the fear that he’ll up and leave. Fly the coop. Flee the country like a Mexican drug dealer. 

“Hey Dave.” Something whacks you in the shin and you turn to see Terezi standing behind you. She waves her guiding cane in greeting and you roll your eyes. She was one of John’s friends. He had a lot of them and he liked to introduce you to them all the time. So far out of all of them, Terezi was your favorite. She was quite the cool chick. 

“Okay, you spend hours on the internet sending me links of doofuses you think look like me but at school you know exactly who I am? How the fuck does that work?” You turn around, shutting your locker with your shoulder blade before leaning against the cool metal. Your arms cross in front of you and you flick your hair into your face out of habit. Even though Terezi can’t see you. 

“I can taste your cologne.” She explains, as if it were completely obvious. 

“That’s gross.” Your face screws up and you wonder what exactly your Brother’s Old Spice tastes like. 

“I’m sure you’re making a delightfully confused face right now. Too bad you won’t let me lick you so I can tell what it looks like.” She grins, tipping her rose colored glasses down to display her bloodshot eyes. She has red eyes, just like you. Maybe that’s why you like her so much. 

“That would be even grosser.”

“As much as I’d like to stay and discuss how disgusting the poor little blind girl is, I have to get to class. I just wanted to say that Johns on the way down the hall. He’s looking for you. I tasted mischief.” 

“Oh, that’s great.” You lifted your hand and kneed at the skin between your eyes. 

“I’d watch out, if I were you.” She taps you with the walking stick again. 

“Thanks for the heads up.” You throw her a lazy peace sign before you realize she can’t see it. 

“Hey Dave!” you hear the slightly nasal voice before Terezi even has the chance to lope away. She snickers, shooting you a grin before taking her leave, whacking as many people as possible as she goes. John quickly takes her place, holding something behind his back with a bright grin that reads ‘I’m planning on pranking you soooooo hard’. 

“This can’t be good.” You eye him carefully. He’s tried to prank you every day since you’d met him. Buckets perched over classroom doors, hand buzzers, whoopee cushions, shocking gum and even a telescope with shoe polish on the end. When he was in cahoots with Vriska was when you had to watch out. Her pranks can get mean and they can get mean really fast. She’s a feisty one with wild hair and a snarl to match. Compared to John’s smiling, friendly disposition, it was a wonder how the two of them got along without hating each other. 

“You scared?” he teases, leaning forward then rocking back onto his feet. 

“What are you up to?” you cross your arms in front of you and raise an eyebrow. 

“Ohhh, nothing.” He shakes his head, black hair flying. 

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not!” 

“Dude, I know you are!” you find your eyes rolling again. They tended to do that a lot. 

“I just wanted to offer my best bro a complimentary can of peanuts that has never been opened. Ever. It’s even sealed! You can check!” he’s grinning so hard it was amazing that his cheeks didn’t explode. Its infectious. The corner of your mouth quirks up into a trademarked Strider smirk. He pulls a generic brand of nuts from behind his back and jiggles it for emphasis. Which was a mistake because it proved that whatever was in the can wasn’t moving like actual peanuts. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yep.”

“I’m just that cool, huh?” 

“Yep!” 

“So I should just totally take this unsuspicious can and open it, shouldn’t I?”

“Yep.” He shoves the can at you. With a sigh, you poise yourself to open it, sure that the paper snake that popped up wouldn’t be scary at all. Unless Vriska had touched it. Then a poisonous snake would pop out and kill you. But time is ticking and class was going to happen whether you died from snake venom or not. So you rip off the lid of the can. 

And nothing happens. 

“Hahahahahaha!” John doubles over with a belly laugh and slaps his knee. “Oh man, you should’ve seen your face!” he wipes a tear from a blue eye and continues with his giggle fit. 

“Nothing happened.” You peer inside the can to find a piece of folded paper. 

“That was the idea! To trick you into thinking I was going to do the trick but then not actually do it at all. God, the was gold. I’m such a prankster prodigy.” He rambles as you fish the paper out of the can and unfold it. Big bold letters read that’s there’s going to be a huge ‘Bash for the birthday boy! Invitation only: Everyone’s invited!’

“That is by far the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.” You shake your head. 

He shakes his as well. “You say that about everything.”

“But this time I really, really mean it.” You shake the paper.“It’s your birthday?”

“It will be in two days. I’ll be eighteen. An adult! With all the freedom in the world and none of the care.” He smoothes back his hair like a rebellious 50’s movie star. “The party is Saturday night. Will you come?” 

“I’m not a party person.” You shove the question away as your heart rages on. People. People you’ll have to mingle with. People you don’t like and people that don’t like you. 

“I knew you’d say that, so I came up with a plan. What if I bribe you by playing your mixes if you come? I’m sure everyone will love them.” He grins, wringing his hands together with a ‘pretty please’ look. You’d only played your music for him a few times and he always seemed bored by it. Simple minds like his couldn’t grasp how sick your beats were and how smooth the melody was laid over. Your talent was a curse, really. A curse of constant misunderstanding from peers. 

“Yeah, until they find out who made them.” You scoff. 

“Why do you think everyone hates your guts?” he pokes you in the side. 

_I don’t think it, I know it,_ you’re tempted to say, but you settle for a shrug. It would be gruesomely uncool to say something like that. Bro’s probably shuddering in fear somewhere because you’d even thought it. 

“If you’d just put yourself out there a little bit, I bet you’d find that people might actually like you.” 

You wave away his comment with the back of your hand “Yeah, yeah.” 

“I’m going to take that as a ‘Sure bestest friend in the entire world, I’ll come to your birthday shindig!’ and I’ll count on you being there a little bit early to set up?” he posed the last part of that sentence as a question and you can’t help but roll your eyes again. 

Saturday. That gave you four days of prep time. If he was making you go to this thing you had to be mentally prepared to sit in a corner and hide for the entire occasion. Knowing John, half the school would be there and you’d be the only outcast. Because you _were_ the only outcast. Inwardly, You shudder, but on the outside you remain cool. Ice cold. Rock hard. “Fine, I’ll go.” 

“Yay!” he cried, pulling you into a tight bro-hug complete with a few backslaps and a huge goofy grin. Without your say so, your cheeks flush because he may or may not have lingered just a little bit too long. Like he always did. Or maybe he didn’t and you just wanted to believe that he did. Either way, your cheeks were burning and the embarrassment from that just made them even hotter. He knew you weren’t into human contact. It was your least favorite thing to do. 

“Yeah, so, I’ve gotta go to class.” You murmur, covering your face with a quick hand. You side step away from him and begin to lope down the hall. You were going to be late and the teach was bound to give you shit for it. 

“Don’t forget to get me a present!” he calls after you. 

_Shit_ , you wince. There was that too. 

\---

“Happy Birthday, Eggs.” You shove the crude cardboard box into his arms with a satisfied smirk. He’d love it. It was the perfect gift anyone could ever give anyone. You were so good at this. 

“Wow, I didn’t know you could wrap gifts so well!” he says, his voice full to bursting with sarcasm. 

“I can always take it back…” 

He shakes his head and rips into the top of the box. You’d taped that shit up tight just to be a dick. Bro always did it to you. With a grunt, he finally works off the devilish sticky plastic and flips the top open. There’s a layer of thin, blue tissue paper and he rips through that, throwing it to the ground to extract your present. 

“This is a…” 

“Damn right.” You nod. He drops the box to the ground as well to unfold his new shirt with both hands. The design is facing him but you know it well. You’d screened it yourself with your old kit from when you used to make your own shirts. 

“Fuck, this is amazing!” he stares at your design with his mouth gaping open. It was a portrait of a caricaturized Nicolas Cage with an oversized head riding a unicorn in front of a skyline that resembled Mordor. You’d spent hours getting just the right amount of irony and dork into the drawing. It was even harder to get it to look right on a shirt, but the finished product was worth all the wasted money. This was genius. “Oh my god this is my favorite thing ever!” he gushes, holding the fabric tight to his chest. “I’m going to change into it right now. Holy shit this is awesome.” 

“I know.” You say, crossing your arms as you watch him gush even more. You’re glad to be the one to cause a smile on his face this time. Again, you find yourself trapped in one of his crushing hugs, the shirt trapped between the two of you. God damn it, his arms were strong. They wrapped around your shoulders like a vice. After a moment or two of awkward swaying, you place your hands around his back too, with a light squeeze. 

“Thanks.” He murmurs before letting go, his fingertips grazing your arm as you break apart. 

You smirk, except this time it actually feels more like a smile. The biggest smile you’d ever had in the school halls you can ever remember. “Anytime.” You scratch the back of your head, angling your head downwards. You can feel his blue eyes still beaming at you but your face doesn’t flush this time. It’s just an all around feeling of warmness. One that you weren’t used to at all. 

But you think you could get used to it. 

==>

You never thought you’d get the chance to actually say this, but the bass was bumping. The walls were banging with music and everyone was talking and laughing and dancing together. There had to be thirty or forty people crammed in your house. The air was hot and since Vriska had shown up with a keg and a few bottles of liquor, it was stagnant with the smell of alcohol. A red cup filled with soda and a splash of whiskey was clutched in your hand but you’d hardly touched it. It tasted gross. Dad would be so proud. 

“Hey, J.E.” you pass by Sollux and he waves at your with the hand that’s holding his own cup. Two girls you’d never met before were clinging to him with dazed looks in their eyes like he was some sort of god. It was just like him to pick up chick at _your_ birthday party. “Howth it hanging?” 

“Alright.” You smile. His lisp always made you want to laugh because it was astounding that anyone found it hot. But you didn’t even giggle. “Where’s Aradia?” 

“She’th around here thomewhere.” He shrugs. The two of them were usually inseparable. They moved in with each other at the beginning of the school year and sometimes they even completed each other’s sentences. It seemed that Sollux was the only one that didn’t know how much she hated it when he went out and whored around. Hopefully she wasn’t drinking her feelings because that tended to put a damper on things. Talk of everlasting doom and everyone’s eventual demise was a sure way to end a party. 

“If you see her, send her my way. I haven’t talked to her in a while,” you say. He salutes, placing his hand back down on the back of one girls head and she seems to shudder. Gross. 

You continue to wander around, nodding to people you don’t know so well and stopping to talk to your very best friends. They all seemed to be having a good time. Nepeta was riding on Equius’s back with her fabric tail swishing between his massive shoulder blades. She greets you with a happy meow and a playful swat at the side of your face. “Are you having a _purrrr_ fect birthday, John?” she asks, her eyes squinting with an anime grin. 

“I do hope you’re having an utterly exquisite time.” Equius angles his head downwards like a slave addressing a master. 

You laugh, pushing his thick shoulder. “Lighten up, man! It’s a party! We’re all supposed to be having fun.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” He bites his lip, clenching his arm out of nerves. You shake your head and Nepeta does the same, leaving over to rub her small face into the boys long hair. That seems to calm him down a bit. 

“Bathroom is upstairs. Second door to the left. Plenty of towels in the cabinet.” You remind him. 

“Thank you.” He graces you with a faltering smile and that’s plenty good enough for you. You wave at the two of them before moseying away again. A sort of dance battle has started in the middle of the living room and Terezi is throwing down some mean moves. It was amazing how she could use that cane to her advantage as she twirled and bounced boogied along. You cheer her on like the rest of them, cupping a hand around your mouth to amplify the sound. 

She sticks a pointed tongue out before blowing a kiss in your direction. You catch it and pretend to place it in your pocket. She can’t see it, but it’s the thought that counts. You’re saving that kiss for later. 

Your starting to loosen up and dance along with the crowd, swiveling your hips and bopping your head when an arm drapes itself around your shoulders. “Heeeeeeeey, buddy. How’s it goin’?” Vriska slurs, her breath reeking. 

“Wow. You’re already drunk. Really nice, Vris.” You shove her off you and she scowls, catching her balance just before she falls over. 

“I found this patronizing the entire football team into playing hacky sack with the contents of your father’s china cabinet,” Aradia speaks up. “I think it’s time she took a break.” 

“Hey!” you pull Aradia into a quick, one armed hug. “Sorry about Sollux… I don’t think he knows how much-“ she waves her hand and shakes her head with a good natured smile. 

“Not the problem here.” She points a thumb to where Vriska is terrorizing Feferi. The poor little blonde is obviously trying to be nice by telling her to go away, but Vriska isn’t having it. All of you know what happens when Fef gets fed up. It’s not pretty. 

You mutter a thanks to Aradia before sauntering off to tug a fighting Vriska to the side. Fef squeaks an ecstatic thank you before scurrying away, no doubt to find Eridan. “Do I need to put you in time out or something?” You jerk Vriska around to face you and she starts to giggle from the dizziness. 

“Jeez, John. Lighten uuuuuuuup!” she snorts, her glasses falling askew. You straighten them with one hand, keeping the other firmly on her shoulder. “I was just trying to-“

“I know what you were trying to do. You were trying to cause as much distress and chaos as possible. It’s my birthday, Vriska. Can’t you behave yourself for _once_?” You fight the whine from your voice and fail. 

“Alright, alright. Don’t get your fucking panties in a bunch.” She swats your hand away and stumbles when you let go of her. 

“Go to the kitchen and get something _non-alcoholic_ to drink. Eat some of the left over cake. Just hang out in there for a little while, alright?” you suggest. Maybe quarantining her was the best way for the party to be a success. 

She snarls at you and stalks away muttering nonsense about you not being her mother and not being able to boss her around. You shake your head and rub the back of your neck before taking a small sip of your lukewarm drink. Gross. 

In the background, a the current song ends and starts again with a softer tone. You recognize it as one of Dave’s pieces and you realize that you haven’t seen him in a long time. 

You’d kill him if he left without telling you.

\---

“There you are! I thought you’d left without saying goodbye.” Dave is sitting against the wall of the front hall with his head leaning into his hands. His back his heaving with deep, ragged breathes barely audible over the thump of the music through the walls. “Hey. What’s wrong?” you step over and kneel down, placing a hand on the wall for balance. 

“I can’t fucking do this.” Dave croaks. He throws his head back against the wall and breath is rapid through his nose. His lips are clenched into a tight line and his fists are balled at his sides. 

“Hey, you can leave. It’s totally alright with-“ 

“They all fucking hate me. I know they do. They all know me as the dude who fucking sliced up someone else and they’re scared of me. Even if they don’t know me my fucking eyes creep them out. Do you know how many people I’ve seen flinch at me when they finally look into my fucking eyes? I’m a freak, John, I’m a fucking freak,” he rambles. His hands return to his hair and it seems like he might be trying to pull it out. This is the most you’d ever heard him speak before. Wow. 

“Dave,” you whisper. “I don’t think you’re a freak.” 

“That’s because you have no recollection of what happened Freshman year. Fuck knows why. I’m like headline news.” He jeers. 

“Why the fuck would what happened when we were _fourteen_ matter now?” you question. “I don’t give a shit about whatever it is you’re talking about and I’m sure no one else cares either.” 

“You have no idea.” He groans.

“I’ve never met anyone with eyes like yours.” You tell him. “They’re one of a kind. And they fit you perfectly. If people can’t see that then they aren’t worth the trouble.” 

“I feel like I’m in some sort of shitty, 90’s, after school special.” He jokes. Joking was good. But there was still tension in the way his back was shoved against the wall and his hand was groping the base of his neck. 

“This is the most I’ve ever heard you talk at one time.” You tease. 

“Don’t get used to it.” He snarls. “Pretend you never heard it. Just… Pretend none of this ever happened. I think I’m just going to go home and wallow in my own self loathing. I-“ You place a hand on his knee to silence him. 

“It’s alright.” You smile. “I’ll give you a ride.” 

“I’m walking. You are not leaving your own birthday party for me.” He shakes his head, a note of finality in his voice as he pushes himself up the wall. You stand, your head rising a few inches just below his. “I feel bad enough as it is.” 

You punch him lightly in the arm with a sigh. “Don’t worry about it. It was nice to actually see that you have a soul in there.” You tap your finger in the center of his chest. He rubs at the spot with a sad smile. “I’m here for you to talk to whenever you need me, got it?” 

“Got it.” He nods, refusing to meet eye contact. You’re happy with the fact that he wasn’t bagging on himself. You could save eye contact for later. 

“Call me if you need anything,” you remind him as he edges towards the front door, grabbing his maroon leather jacket off the hook on the wall. 

He gives you a nod before slipping out the door, chilly night air slipping in the house behind him. 

\---

“Okay, so I got you something but you have to close your eyes.” You’re holding something brilliant behind your back. At least, you think its brilliant. It could go both ways. He could be extremely offended or overjoyed. And you really hoped he was overjoyed. He was slumped over his desk in the corner, doodling thick lines in pencil on the corner of a worksheet. Rose was seating in front of him flipping through a thick novel. She smiles because she knows what you’ve planned. 

“I’m really not in the mood to put up with a prank right now, John.” He murmurs, casting a look up at you. 

“It’s not anything like that, I swear!” You grin. “You just have to close your eyes.” 

“John…”

“Just trust me,” you insist. With a sigh, he submits, leaning his head back and letting his tired eyes fall shut. You’d never seen him look so exhausted before. It worried you. 

You cast aside your motherly instincts and used the side of your hand to scoop hair from his forehead and slip your gift into place. His ear flush as your fingers brush by them and you find yourself smirking. 

“They look pretty good on you!” you nod in approval. His head falls back down again and he sort of gasps to let you know he’s opened his eyes.

“What-“

“Just take them. I’ve had them forever and I never wear them because my glasses get dark in the sunlight everywhere. They’re yours.” He pushes his hair back again, letting the line of his bangs rest atop the side of the dark aviator shades. 

He stands, wavering a second before tugging you into a slight, momentary hug that leaves your mouth gaping open. 

“Thanks.” He murmurs, plopping into his seat again. 

“A-Anytime…” you choke. Wow… 

That hug had made your insides twang more than you ever thought it would. Rose gives you a wink. And you don’t like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed the puzzling, site crashing update because I sure as hell did :3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John and Dave smoke something Gamzee gave them and Bro interrupts the whole shebang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy 420 to everyone who celebrate! Stay safe, stay responsible and eat lots of cheetos!

“Wow. This is pretty great.” John opens his lips into a wide O and exhales. Plumes of thick, white smoke rush out with his breath to mingle with the clouds you’d made on the ceiling. 

“Yeah,” you agree with a breathy laugh. This _is_ great. Everything is just so fucking great right now. 

“Yeah.” John lets out a girlish giggle and presses a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound. 

“Shit. I had no idea I said that out loud.” You start laughing now, too. You know you sound like an idiot, but for once, you don’t really care. You feel free and happy and a teeny bit hungry, but that doesn’t matter. John is right here in your living room smoking weed that Gamzee had given you because you “need to motherfuckin’ chill out. Here, my brother, it’s on the house.” 

You’d started alone, digging Bro’s bright orange bong from the bottom of his closet. You pretend you don’t know about it, but you do. He probably pretends he doesn’t know you use it. Either that or he just didn’t care. 

Anyway. You’d started alone, but after a few hits you’d realized you were _too_ alone. So you tried cleaning the apartment a little, gave up and then called John. You watch him light up and hit it once more, holding his breath forever before exhaling and setting the bong back on the coffee table. 

“No, like. I’m being serious. This is _really_ great.” He slumps down on the couch like you are and stares at the ceiling too. It is just that fucking great of a ceiling. There are puppets hanging from it all over the place and a few ninja stars are lodged here and there from attacks you’d dodged. 

You laugh for no reason and rub your eyes underneath your shades. The shades John had given you because you’d broken like that one fucking dam in Germany or some shit. You ranted to him, spilling more than you’d ever spilled to anyone before. And him giving you the sunglasses was like sticking his fingers in the leak, preventing it from doing any more damage. You’d laid yourself on the table and instead of digging into you like it was Thanksgiving dinner, he tried to help. And he did. He helped a lot. 

“John, you’re like, my best fucking friend ever.” You spill again. But this time it’s not a leak, just a little over the edge. You angle your head to look at him through the dimness of your glasses. 

He’s really gorgeous. Unique. You’d never seen anyone with slanted eyes that were that tint of amazing blue. His smile was straight and white and contrasted perfectly with his dark skin. The rest of his body wasn’t bad either, of course. The muscles were formed because of sports, but not too much. He has just the right amount of buff to make his shoulder thick and his waist narrow. You wish that he’d dress to exaggerate that instead of just dressing like a dork all the time. 

Wow. Did you really just let yourself think that?

“I love you too, Dave.” He grins. There are red rims around his eyes. 

You hadn’t said a word about loving him, but he knew that was what you meant. And that melted your heart right there. Your feelings were just slapping you all over the place. 

“I need to shut up.” You push your head into the couch, relishing the rough old material. No matter where you went (not that you went many places) this couch was the most comfortable one you’d ever sat on. You and Bro had found it on the side of the road when you were four. You remember him calling a friend of his with a truck to help you guys pick it up. You watched as they wrestled it into the bed of the truck and you got to ride with it back there on the way home. He’s tweaked the thing here and there, adding patches and stuffing the cushions with the same fluff he put in the smuppets and now here it was, still plush as a puppet’s rump. 

“No! Please keep talking!” he objects, scooting closer. His shoulder brushes yours and you shiver. “Say some more stuff.” 

You clam up. A second ago you were thinking a mile a minute but now there was nothing. Nothing but tumbleweeds and howling wind. “Well, now I can’t think of anything to say.” 

“That’s a shame,” he murmurs. A moment of silence passes before he suddenly jerks with a silent gasp. 

“You felt like you were floating away, didn’t you?” You smirk. 

“How’d you know?” 

“I’m feeling the same thing. It’s like, okay. I know I’m not moving but I’m like, rising up. And I see that the ceiling isn’t getting any closer but I feel like I can just reach out and fucking punch it right now if I wanted to.” The urge to bust some boss rhymes rises and you don’t fight it, forming a beat in your brain to bob your head to. After that’s established, you take a breath and let go. “Rising high in the sky like a fucking plane like the debt rising high causes the people pain. Ain’t a care in the world here with my pal Egbert, and we’re saying hell the fuck no to that society butthurt. Hit the bong, pass along ‘til the rooms in a fog, fucking right, hell yeah if you follow along, what.” 

John’s laughing so hard that he rolls over, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“What?” you giggle along with him.

“That was fucking awesome!” He’s crying from laughing so hard and you don’t even care that he’s wiping his nose all over your shirt. Because he’s touching you and you can feel the heat of his breath against your neck. 

Okay, so maybe you aren’t as straight as you thought you were. Or maybe it’s just all this newfound human contact thing. But you really think you might possibly, maybe have a little thing going on for John Egbert. 

Dang. 

“Thanks.” You accept his compliment, ignoring the worry and fear and nerves as you place your hand in his thick, dark hair. It’s a little ridged, but it slips through your fingers like water as your bury them deep in the mop and lifting them again, combing through the locks. 

“That feels really good,” he mumbles. Somewhere, the laughing had stopped and it was quiet except the rustle of your shirt against the couch and the electrical noises of the apartment. 

“It’s not weird or anything?” you ask him, leaving his hair alone to rake the backs of your fingers against the line of his cheek. 

Normally, you wouldn’t take this laying on you like a pillow bullshit. This was way too close for comfort and you had your own personal space. You could register a mild discomfort in the back of your mind but it was quickly dispatched. You didn’t care. You were sick of caring. Who even cared anymore? Caring was for chumps. 

“Why would it feel weird?” he answers your question with a question. Something your anger management coach used to pull when you were forced to take those classes Freshman year. You hated it when he used to do that. “Dave, why are you so scared of people?” he asks, like he was reading your goddamn mind. 

“Do you really want to know?” you swallow, hesitating a moment before petting his stupid fauxhawk again. 

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” 

“Really?” 

“Dave!” he lets out a whine and a breathy laugh, throwing his arm around your stomach. Wow that was warm. Damn it, he was like a space heater. 

You exhale, focusing more on the feeling of his arm and his hair and his easy presence before starting in on your stupid tale. First you explain the asswipe that’d pissed you off enough to start a strife. 

“Wow I know that guy. He’s a total fucking tool. I don’t think I know anyone that even likes him a little bit.” He scrunched up his face and you smile because that’s really fucking cute. 

Next, you tell him about the fight. How you’d brought the blade. You really didn’t know any better back then. Bro had always solved all his problems with swords and he’d taught you to do the same. Then you get to the part about coming back to school after almost an entire year of correctional school and all the classes you had to take and he stops you. 

“So when you came back everyone was scared of you,” he asks. You nod. “And now you hate everyone. Okay, I get it.” 

“I don’t hate anyone!” you object. “They hate me.” 

“That’s because you push everyone away, Dave! I noticed it ages ago. Every time I introduce you to someone new you act like a complete pompous douche,” he argues, sitting up to look you in the eye. Or at least in the shades because you’re pretty sure all he can see in this lighting is his own reflection. “And one bad experience shouldn’t turn you off from the rest of the human population, jeez. I mean, look at the first time we met. I’d almost died because of an evil flying skateboard.” 

You laugh and he joins in with a quick snort. “I need to introduce you to Tav properly some time. He lives right next door, we could-“ 

“You’re changing the subject.” He gives you an almost fatherly, stern look. Wow hot. 

“No I’m not.” You scoff with a slight smirk. 

“Yes you are.” He grabs your chin with one hand and uses the other to pluck the shades from your face so that he’s really looking into your eyes this time. “Promise me that you’ll try to open up a little more? You’ll be much happier. And I kind of like it when you’re happy.” 

On any normal circumstances, you’d just jeer and blow the suggestion away. But those dark blue orbs were staring straight into yours and no one ever looked you in the eye for longer than a split second before. Except maybe Bro. So you decide to just nod. “I promise,” you say. 

“Good.” He grins. And then he leans over and presses a kiss on your cheek. It’s just a little peck, really. Nothing to get all flustered over, but you can’t help the heat rising to your cheeks. Wow. Just… fucking wow. He slides your shades back into place after that and snuggles his head on your chest. 

No one has ever kissed you before. It was a completely uncool thing to admit. But it was true. For as long as you could remember, no one had pressed their lips on you. And here was John, doing it like it didn’t even matter and you had no idea what to fucking think. Placing your hand on the spot he’d kissed was way too teenage movie so you just sit still and let the feeling sink in. 

After a while you decide that the feeling is pretty choice. 

And after an even longer while the nagging fuzziness in your stomach gets the best of you. “God damn it, I’m wicker hungry.” 

“Dude, yes.” He sits up, suddenly energized by the thought of food. 

“Let’s go find something to fucking chow down on,” you say. There was a ninety percent chance that there was nothing you wanted to eat in the entire apartment, but you could always walk down to the gas station on the corner. 

He hops up and rushes into the kitchen. You try to convince yourself that you didn’t notice the way his jeans hugged his bubble butt before he disappeared from sight. 

==>

You’re sitting at the kitchen table watching as Dave stares dismally into the pot of water. He gives the spoon sticking out of it another stir before looking over at you with a confused purse to his lips. “I don’t think this is working.” 

“Are you sure the burner is up all the way?” you ask. 

“Dude it’s all the fucking way up!”

“I was just checking!” You raise your hands. The fuzziness in your brain is fading into an annoying tiredness, though the munchies won’t go away. The two of you had been staring at this stupid pot of water for ages just waiting for it to bubble so you can cook some mac and cheese. 

It had taken fifteen minutes of searching through every cabinet to find the beat up old box, too. This kitchen is full of some weird shit. The freezer is full of long swords for crying out loud! And the sink is packed with fireworks. Who even does that? Dave didn’t seem to mind, though. He just kind of worked around the ridiculous clutter, moving a huge, creepy puppet he called Cal off a chair so you could sit down. 

“Why don’t you bring the bong in here?” he suggests after another long minute of watching the water. 

That sounds like a fantastic idea. You scurry away to the living room and snatch the orange glass off the table along with the lighter and the bag of green. This was really only your second time smoking anything… but you’d never let Dave know that. And he’d never guess because you handled it like a champ. 

You really just wanted the chance to come to his house for the first time ever. He’d never even allowed you to come in before and here you were putting your lips all over the same bong and cooking Macaroni together. 

He’s still leaning over the stove when you sit back down at the table. You go through the now familiar motions of loading up, lighting up and placing your lips over the top, inhaling as much as possible. Your chest expands with the sticky smoke and you want to cough so bad that your eyes water, but you don’t. You just sit and count to five before exhaling like a dragon. 

You already feel much better. 

“God damn it, I fucking rage quit.” Dave shuts angrily turns the knob on the stove and the fire underneath the pot dies down. “Piece of fucking shit stove.” 

You laugh as he storms over and snatches the bong out of your hands, following your motions and managing to inhale even more smoke. He makes tiny rings as he exhales the thick plumes and they float up before dissolving in thin air. 

“Cool.” You nod in approval, laughter bubbling up. You probably let a few giggles out before you can stop it but you really don’t remember. Or care. “But I’m still hungry.” 

“Yeah, me too.” He pushes his sunglasses and the hair above them on top of his head and hits the bong again. He only holds it for a second before putting it on the table and gesturing at you. You stand and he places his thin hands on your shoulders, holding you in place. 

For a second you think he might actually kiss you, but he just ghosts his lips over yours, exhaling the smoke in a jet that goes straight down your throat. 

“Fuck!” you cough this time because he’d taken you by surprise. He pounds you on the back when you double over and you that makes you laugh, pushing him away. “I wasn’t expecting that.” 

“It’s called shotgunning,” he explains, setting the bong back on the table and adjusting his shades. “I’ve never gotten to do it with anyone before.” 

You start giggling again, covering your mouth. There’s fuzz everywhere again and you’re floating on air. Wow this was great. Great was the only thing fit to describe the feeling. Great, great, great. 

Suddenly, how great Dave actually looks is really hard to ignore. You’d always found him attractive, but now the narrow shirt paired with his lean muscle was difficult not to reach out and touch. His blonde hair was sticking out a little in the front. He’d trimmed it up a bit since he’s started wearing the sunglasses. 

“For a second, I thought you were going to kiss me,” you say, scratching at the back of your head before kneeling down and situating yourself with your legs crossed on the cool kitchen floor because that seemed perfectly logical. 

He laughs. The sincere laugh of his that comes in short, loud bursts. You reach over and tug on the belt loop of his jeans, half wishing that you’d pull them down, but his belt held them in place. Damn. 

“Did you hear me?” you repeat yourself, squinting up at him. The freckles on his cheeks were way noticeable from this angle. 

He heaves a final sigh before dropping down next to you, splaying his legs out in front of him and leaning on his arms. It takes him a moment before responding to your question. “What?”

“I said you’ve got something on your shirt, right there.” You jab a finger at the center of his chest. He grabs the bait and tries to look down, providing the perfect opportunity for you to flick his nose. Gold. Comedic gold was all that that is. 

“Okay, that was pretty smooth.” He grins. 

“It’s just natural talent.” You pretend to dust off your shoulders and the both of you chuckle like idiots again. “But seriously. I thought you were going to kiss me.” You repeat yourself. 

“Oh. Yeah.” He mumbles, angling his head towards the ground. He better not flick his hair over his face. He just better not. Because you would flip your shit. “Sorry?” 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

“I really don’t know.” He shifts, curling one leg towards him and wrapping his arms around it. He places his chin on the tip of his knee and exhales through his nose. “Since I’ve told you fucking everything about me, I might as well tell you this too… I’ve never actually kissed anyone before. So I wouldn’t know the first thing about it.” 

“I could teach you.” You offer before you even have time to think about the words you’re saying. Wow you’re such a loser. A total fucking goofball. But he’s just laughing at you and that’s better than outright rejection any way. “I mean… I totally didn’t mean to say that.” 

He reaches over and ruffles your hair. God, you’d liked it so much when he’s played with it earlier. He was gentle but firm and kept a slow rhythm that nearly lulled you to sleep. “You’re adorable, Egbert.” He says. Your cheeks flush with blood. 

“Not as adorable as you,” you counter. 

“I don’t know what you think is _adorable_ but it sure as hell can’t classify as me.” He does that little _pff_ thing with his lips “I’m lethal, remember? Dead set on destroying everyone in our class with one of my Brother’s crappy show katanas.” 

“Oh shut up, you’re kawaii as fuck.” You blurt before you can help yourself. He looks at you a second before snorting with mocking chortles. 

“I can’t believe you just said ‘kawaii as fuck’.” He wipes tears out from under his shades and tries catching his breath, only laughing even more. “God, Bro has to meet you. That was just too perfect. I’m like two seconds away from saying sugoi or something. Oh my god.” 

You shove him. “Shut up.” 

He shoves you back “No, you shut up.” 

And then a shoving match ensues, each one getting stronger and stronger as the both of you laugh. He lunges at you, knocking you back and pinning your arms above your head. But only for a split second until your wrestling instincts kick in and you wriggle out from beneath him, maneuvering him until he’s laying flat on his back with his arms pressed on either side of him by your legs. 

“I win.” You smirk, pressing your hands into the linoleum on either side of his head. Blonde hair is spread across the floor and his shades are askew as he glares at you. 

“Get off me,” he demands. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” He tries to wriggle, but your legs are too strong and he stays put. “Oh fuck fine. I’ll stay here. I’m too stoned to fucking give a shit.” He gives in with a sleepy sigh. 

“Good.” You smile, leaning in even closer until your breath is mingling with his. You can taste the weed with every exhale he makes and his eyes grow wide when you move his glasses away again, placing them on the top of your own head. 

“Did I ever say thank you for those?” he asks, his tone hushed. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh. Well, good. Because thank you again. I can’t believe I’d never thought of them before.” 

“Anytime,” you whisper. You’re even closer now, staring hard into his molten lava eyes. The dryness of them makes them look even more red and that just makes them all the more sexy. How could he ever think they would scare anyone away? They were like rubies. Pure gemstones on his fucking face. If people didn’t see that they could go fuck themselves. 

“John,” he whispers. You move one hand to cradle his cheek and move in, slowly but steadily, because you seriously want to kiss this boy more than you’ve wanted to kiss any of your girlfriends or even Liv Tyler. And that was a big deal. 

A cough from the doorway breaks your concentration and you look up to see a tall guy in a white polo looking at you over the top of some stupid shades that looked surprisingly cool. His mouth is shaped exactly the same as Dave’s and it’s set into a knowing smirk. 

“I hate to interrupt,” he says, but the way his voice tilts up at the end makes it obvious that he doesn’t hate it at all. He’s actually enjoying it. 

“John. You can move now,” Dave mutters. 

“Oh! Right…” You push yourself up, trying your hardest not to fall back on Dave. He follows suit, landing on his feet after a fancy kick flip kind of thing. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his face falling into that protected mask he’d used all the time when you’d first met. You still have his shade on the top of your head and you reach up to grab them, handing them over. 

“I live here,” the man answers. 

“Ever hear of knocking?” Dave snatches the shades out of your hand and shoves them back where they belong. 

“Oh, excuse me. Let me just knock on the fucking invisible kitchen door to make sure my little brother isn’t making yaois with someone on the kitchen floor.” He pretends to look for a door that indeed wasn’t there. It was obvious that it once had been, because there were left over hinges. “And looky here! You’re also doing illegal drugs with _my_ paraphernalia. What a shame.” 

“Oh fuck off, Bro.” Dave keeps his expression cool, flipping the bird at the older version of himself. 

“Gotta admit that this guy’s cute, though.” His orange eyes trace over you in one long sweep. “Got an older brother?” he asks. 

“Okay, well so much for a friendly introduction.” Dave hangs his head. “John, this is my Bro. Bro, this is John. We’re leaving. Come on, John.” 

“Aw, come on!” Bro laughs as Dave jerks you past his older brother and back into the living room. Somehow, Bro beat you to the front door and he stood with his legs spread and his python arms crossed tight over his chest. “You know I was just joking.” He says. “Sorry.” 

“Whatever.” Dave lets go of your hand and scowls at his brother for a good, long time before trudging back over to the extremely comfortable couch in the middle of the messy living room. “You might as well get comfortable, John. He’s not going to let us leave for a while.” 

You look between the two brothers. “Okay?”

“I just want to get to know my little brother’s friend, is all.” Bro moves from the door and drapes a heavy arm around your shoulders. 

“We weren’t making yaois, or whatever the hell it was you said.” Is the only thing you can think of to say. Bro laughs, flinging you down onto the couch next to Dave. 

“Yeah. Whatever kid.” He smirks at you. Dave rolls his eyes. Or at least you think he does because he’s wearing sunglasses in a dark room and it’s hard to tell if he’s ever doing anything with the upper half of his face. 

“So…” Bro clears his throat, pulling an old desk chair from somewhere amongst the clutter and sitting on it backwards. You swallow, getting a feeling that you were going to be grilled like a boy picking up a prom date from an irate father’s clutches. And damn it, you’re still starving.


	7. Jade is a Badass That Runs the Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jade is awesome and she wants everyone to love everyone! Particularly John and Dave

Your name is Jade. Jade Harley. And you are a pretty bad ass chick. Maybe it’s just the feeling of hot metal in the palm of your hand as you shoot round after round. You’d torn two targets to shreds already and your ears were blissfully ringing. Protection was for sissies. If you couldn’t shoot a rifle without covering your ears then you have no business shooting in the first place. 

“This is really boring!” John shouts at you when you stop to reload your pistol. His fingers are shoved hard in his ears and his face is screwed up like he was in some sort of pain. 

“Well pick a gun and fire at something!” You click the cartridge back into place just as he unplugs his ears. 

“You know I have no aim with a gun.” He pouts. “There are a million other ways I could be spending my weekend.” 

“I thought Dave was busy.” You look at your gun longingly for a second before deciding to take a break. 

“Not everything I do revolves around Dave!” he objects. You give him a look with a raise of your eyebrows and he just crosses his arms. “Okay. Maybe it has _lately_ but he’s allowed to have his own life. It’s actually kind of a good thing that he’s hanging out with someone else.” 

You saunter over and straddle the bench he’s sitting at, laying your gun in your lap. It had been ages since you’d gotten to sit down and actually talk with John. He was always busy with sports or other friends and you usually learned about his endeavors through other people. Terezi had been the one to tell you that she was spending the day with Dave at some sort of obscure music festival. She had to beg and threaten him until Dave finally agreed to go with her. “You could have gone with them.” You shrug. “But I’m glad you’re here with me!” 

“Yeah.” He reaches over and ruffles the top of your hair. “I’m glad, too. Even though it’s not that fun.” 

“I’m having loads of fun!” You grin, grabbing at his cheeks to lift his mouth into a smile too. It was like playing with the male version of your face. You looked at lot alike except your eyes were a hazely brown instead of blue. He laughs, shaking his head and shoving your hands away. 

“So what’s new with Jade?” he asks, pushing his glasses back into place. “You always know everything about me but I haven’t gotten the chance to ask about you so spill.” 

“Well not much, really.” You tap the end of your chin in thought. “I made twelfth chair in band last week!” You play the flute, though not very well. But you’d moved up an entire chair since the last time you’d tested. 

“Great!” John gives you a high five, but only after you check his hand for a buzzer because you can never be too careful with him. Daddy Egbert was just as bad and you always had to be on the lookout for pranks in the house. They stopped doing the whole bucket of water over the doorway thing though, because the last time they’d done it, it’d ruined a school project you’d worked really hard on and you almost shot John in the foot. 

“I got another tablet! This one has a really cool kick stand thing that’ll come in handy when I want to watch movies on it!” you gush.

“This makes how many computers?” he smirks. 

“Twelve! Not all of them are computers, though. I’ve got my phone and my PDA’s and my nook and my-“ 

“I get it, I get it!” he cuts you off with a shake of his head. People just didn’t understand the importance of multiple computers. You used all of them and were pretty much always connected to pesterchum for when anyone ever needed you. You decide to bring up a new subject, because obviously he doesn’t want to hear about your technology.

“Karkat and I started experimenting with some stuff. You’d be amazed at the sound he makes when you get him worked up! It almost sounds like purring. And he said he wanted to try a strap-on but I don’t find one and I sure as hell don’t want to ask Vriska if I can use hers-“ 

“Oh god, Jade!” He cuts you off again. “Jade, no! Oh my God I’m gonna puke!” He presses his hands over his ears and doubles over like he’s in pain. “I didn’t just hear that Vriska has a strap on. I didn’t just hear that Karkat wants to use it. I didn’t just hear anything, oh my fucking god.” He rocks back and forth and you roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder. 

“Oh come on, John. It’s perfectly healthy. I keep telling you this.” You shake your head. Why did everyone think sexuality was such a bad thing? Well, at least they did unless you got to show them what was what. That usually changed their mind. You were proud to say that you’d taught Sollux everything he knew and he was pretty fly with the ladies, if you do say so yourself. 

“Gross, Jade. Gross.” He shakes his head. Maybe he does look a little pale around the edges like he might actually be sick. Honestly. 

“Why?” you ask, crossing your arms. “It’s a perfectly natural part of life.” 

“I don’t want to hear about what my friends do in the bedroom, thanks. Especially not with my cousin! That’s just gross. So gross, Jade.” He says. “Fuck. All my friends have slept with you. I’ve got to warn Dave.” 

“Because you want him all to yourself?” You waggle your eyebrows at him when he gives you that shocked look. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He rejects you. But his back goes all ridged and he averts his eyes from yours so you know it’s a dirty lie. 

“Spill the beans, mister.” You tap him on the top of the head. 

“I didn’t think I was gay…” he begins, sitting straight again and raking a hand through his hair. “But like, I care for him a lot? More than I’ve ever cared for any of my other friends and that’s kind of scary, I guess. And I want to spend as much time with him as I can…” 

“Do you think he’s hot?” you ask. 

“What does that-“ you raise your eyebrow and he sighs. “Yeah. I do. A lot sometimes when he wears red and his freckles show more. And I’ve never seen anyone with eyes that color and they’re really pretty because his eyelashes are really long... Wow I’ve got the homos bad, don’t I?” 

You scoff, shoving him again. “You say that like it’s a disease or something!” 

He shrugs. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay or whatever. Like whoever you want and see if I have enough fuck to give… But I just never expected it to be an actual thing for me? I almost kissed him the other day.” 

“No way!” You clap your hands together with excitement. “That’s so cool! Why almost, what happened?” 

“His brother walked in.” He grimaces. “At first he interrogated me like he was from the FBI or something but after that he was pretty cool, I guess. Once he and Dave started talking I had no idea what they were saying, though.” 

“You’ve kissed someone before, right?” you ask, leaning your head on your knuckles with a smile. These were your favorite kinds of conversations. 

“I’ve had girlfriends!” he blurts out. 

“Yeah, but not in like two years!” you scoff. John was never very big on dating. He said it was because he was too busy with school and sports to actually devote himself to a relationship. He and Vriska had tried the whole couple thing out in eighth grade and she was really abusive and controlling. You suspect that was the reason he only went out with people if they asked him first. 

“I still kissed them!” he ‘hmph’ed. “I was really, really high and we were talking about some deep shit and I accidentally kind of kissed him on the cheek even before that. He said he’s never kissed anyone before.” 

“Well, you’ll just have to be his first kiss then! This is great!” You squeal, fidgeting on the bench with excitement. 

“Jade, that’s not what I was trying to get at, at all.” John shakes his head but you silence him with a ‘shoosh’ and place your index finger over his lips. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got this!” you insist, standing and throwing your gun into the air before maneuvering your leg out from the other side of the bench and twirling. You catch the pistol and wink at a cringing John. It wasn’t like you weren’t going to catch it or something. “Count on me, John!” you beam at him as he mutters something along the lines of “Jane, no.” and then you return to your shooting because you have a plan to hatch. 

==>

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 16:03—

GG: rose i have a serious question!!  
TT: I’m actually in the middle of writing a fairly intricate and bad ass plot twist at the moment. Can it wait?  
GG: i dont think so!! :O  
TT: Just hold on one second  
GG: hurry!!!!!  
TT: Okay. I jotted enough notes down to find my place when I start again.  
TT: What is this dire question?  
GG: okay, here I go  
GG: theres a little bit of a background story to the actual question  
GG: so bear with me :p  
GG: i was at the shooting range with john today and it was lots of fun!  
GG: he got bored after a little while though, so we had a nice brother sister chat  
GG: and he sort of told me that he has the hots for dave!!  
GG: he never talks about people he likes with me so i know its really serious  
GG: like super serious  
GG: but i think its kind of one sided :(  
GG: and i want to know if you think i should try to get them together or if I should let it progress on its own??  
GG: because i think itd be really cute!! <3  
TT: Hmm.  
TT: What do you mean by “try to get them together”? As I recall all your methods of romance are a tad bit forward.  
GG: i don’t know!!  
GG: i just really really want them to touch butts or something <3  
TT: I’ll be the first one to tell you that that’s a very odd thing to want for your own blood. But I’ll also say that you were never very normal in the first place.  
TT: But, I think it would be best to just let them handle themselves for the time being.  
TT: Dave doesn’t seem like one to be able to handle you much in public, anyway. He’s a bit shy.  
GG: oh come on!!  
GG: dave loves me :)  
GG: everyone loves me  
TT: That may be true, but I’ve tried to get Dave to speak with me multiple times because he seems like he has a pretty interesting story. But he always starts spouting stupid extended metaphors and ignores the whole thing.  
TT: Its kind of frustrating.  
GG: he only ever talks to john  
GG: and terezi recently they sort of hit it off  
TT: My theory is that he likes her because she can’t really see him. With the way he covers them up, I suspect that he’s subconscious about his eyes.  
TT: John told me about the whole Freshman Year Sword Incident and Terezi can’t recognize him as that guy. So they’re meant to get along fairly well.  
GG: oh no!! :(  
GG: what if he and terezi like each other  
GG: it would ruin everything!!  
TT: Just let things progress, Jade. I’m sure everything will work out for the best.  
TT: And its probably best that you don’t tell anyone else. The fact that John hasn’t even mentioned it to me yet is a sign that he doesn’t want people to know.  
GG: oops!  
GG: i guess youre right  
GG: you can get back to your story now if you want  
GG: i cant wait to read it!! :)  
TT: Later. 

\--tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] at 17:12—

You tap your fingertips against the edge of your desk and heave a quick sigh. You’d wished that she’d say it was a good idea to lump the two of them together with some super glue! But Rose’s advice was usually pretty solid and you trusted her. 

So what to do now that your relationship plotting has been foiled? There’s bound to be someone bored somewhere that wants to do something… John was working on homework and Dad actually had some really important paperwork to do. Baking wasn’t your forte anyway. Wow this weekend was turning out to be really boring. You turn back to pesterchum to see who’s online. 

Eridan… But his mood was set to rancorous and that was never good. He had to be brooding over something that made no sense. 

John, but you know he’s busy in his room. Probably just online to talk to Dave when he gets back. 

Nepeta was there too, but you really didn’t feel like an RP right now. Unless…

\--gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering arsenicCatnip [AC] at 17:18—

GG: *jade steps into acs cave entrance wearing a scanty little green number and a mischievous smile*  
AC:33 < *ac lifts her head with a sl33py meow as if to ask “who’s there?”*   
GG: *gg repies with “its just me kitten. want to play?” she then steps forward again, her heels clicking against the stone*  
AC: 33 <*ac’s cute mouth lifts into a smirk and she nods her head, batting at Jade’s clothes*  


You smirk to yourself, settling in for a nice long conversation with your kitty friend. Tonight, you decide, is a furry kind of night anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. so what is good writing in Jade's perspective? Cuz I'm pretty sure this ain't it -_-  
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get bored and go on a "bro date"

Through the dimness of your shades your eyes trace the lazy turn of John’s ceiling fan. He’s sprawled out on the bed next to you with books and papers around him and against your legs. He’s working on a paper that you’d finished a few days ago. The room was silent except for the scratching of his pen against paper. 

But you were still less bored than you’d be at home. Recently, you’d started to hate being alone all of the time. Where solitude had been comfort before, now it was dead grueling. You actually have people to hang out with now. Like you used to in Jr. high and Tav would come over to play video games and have rap battles. Now you had a best friend named John that you could hang out with even if you weren’t doing anything. 

Besides, since Bro had detected your microbe of a crush on John he’d made living at your house nearly impossible. He’s bent on bringing it up at every moment possible by throwing comments at you like “Have you porked him yet?” and “Well, when you do let me video tape it.” You got out as much as possible now. Because he was pushing to try to meet the entire Egbert family and you don’t think you have the strength. 

With a sigh, you roll over and prop your head up on your elbow. John’s knees were bent and his stocking feet were waving through the air to an undetectable rhythm. A thin strip of boxer shorts peeked out from between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his basketball shorts. You tended to catch yourself watching him sometimes. The way his back curved and his muscles moved when he played sports and ran. The way the right corner of his mouth crinkled up more than the left when he laughed. The way his steps fell when he walked. And now you’re studying the curve of his ass and you don’t feel like doing anything to stop yourself. Never before had you been so inclined to just look at a butt. 

He was clueless. Or at least, you thought he was. Not that you were dropping hints at him or anything. Just the opposite. This crush could ruin everything about this friendship… the best friendship you’d ever had. As corny as it may sound, you can’t lose John Egbert. 

His friend, Terezi. She was cool. She made you laugh and was nowhere near afraid to bust the most cruel of jokes. Her red glasses were cool and her face was pretty too. Maybe… Maybe you had a thing for her, too. Or maybe you were just trying to mask how bad you had it for Egbert but you’d been hanging out with her a lot lately, putting the Strider moves that you didn’t have the chance to use before on her hard. Maybe you’d ask her on a date someday soon. Maybe if you were sure she wouldn’t laugh. 

Man, fuck being a teenager. Fuck feelings. You weren’t used to them. Egbert had flipped on your emotion switch and you couldn’t force it to turn back off again. 

You open your mouth to say something. Anything to take your mind off whatever it was trying to piece together but your stomach beats you to the punch with a lion-worthy roar. Oh yeah. You’d skipped breakfast. Time to be hungry. 

“You going to answer that?” John giggles. 

“Nah, I think I’ll let it ring.” You smirk. He flips over onto his back, sending papers fluttering to the floor. Now his shirt is hiked even higher and you can see his evenly dark skin and the indention of a perfectly formed ab- no! no shut up, Dave. Bad. 

“What time is it?” he asks, stretching his arms over his head with a long arch of his back. 

“I’d say ten past four,” you guess. After you’d woken up this morning and taken a shower, you’d headed straight to Egbert’s house. It was noon and Bro was still snoring away, a pile of half made smuppets. There wasn’t a clock in John’s room besides the one attached to his wrist at all times, but you always seemed to know what time it was. It was just a bizarre skill of yours. 

John brought his arm in front of his face to read his watch. “How’d you know that? It’s exact!” 

You shrug. 

“Let’s go do something.” He pushed himself up to warp his arms around his knees.

“You need to finish your paper, nerd.” You retort. 

“He calls me a nerd like it’s an insult or something.” John snorted to no one. “And he finished his paper already. What a loser.” 

“That doesn’t make me a loser,” you counter. “That makes me someone that doesn’t want to spend a perfectly good Saturday writing a stupid paper.” 

He rubs at the back of his neck, rolling it this way and that. “Whatever. I give up for today. We should go get something to eat. You sound like you’re starving.” 

You wave the comment away. Not eating was something you did often. Food took too long to cook. And besides, “I don’t have any money,” you say.

“Oh shut up I can pay for you.” He rolls his eyes. “Think of it as a date, hot lips.” 

You know he’s joking, but blood rushes to your cheeks anyway. “Yeah yeah, dinner and then you take me home and let me ravish you all night long.” You roll your eyes. 

He stretched again, popping his back before slumping over with a satisfied smirk. “I believe I’ll be the one doing the ravishing.” He says, sliding off the bed. 

“Why, I do believe my heart is all in a flutter,” you place your hand on your chest and bounce over onto your back like a dramatic southern bell. The back of your other hand it pressed to your forehead and you bite your lip in worry. 

He laughs and wads up a piece of paper to throw at you. 

==>

“This place has really great food!” You pull into your usual parking spot in front of the tiny grey brick restaurant. Pale colored curtains cover the huge windows and shadows are moving around inside. “Equius works here and he can cut us deals and stuff so we usually come every Saturday.” 

Dave sits up and peers through your windshield “The Pale Diamond Bar and Diner?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow in suspicion. “Sounds like some sort of strip joint.” 

You shrug. “Only on Wednesday nights. And even then it’s just a bunch of dancers. No hardcore nudity or anything.” 

“Wow I wasn’t being serious.” He laughs. “But alright then, if the grub is good then I trust you, I guess.” Now it’s his turn to shrug. “As long as Equius doesn’t try to give me some sort of awkward lap dance or anything.”

“I’m not making any promises.” You give him a somber look over your shoulder and he shudders before pushing his own door open. 

You follow his example, exiting your tiny car and clicking the little button on the key to make it chirp like a bird. The horn is anything but impressive and it’s not the manliest car anyone could have. Dad bought it because it was safe and because you could practically drive to Antarctica and back on one tank of gas. You’d had it since sophomore year and not there are stickers caking the bumper and back window. And a few of your medals hang from the rearview mirror. It’s the manliest little prissy car possible, you think. 

“You coming, or what?” Dave’s already holding the door open for you. “I’m starving.” 

“Yeah,” you say with a shake of your head. Mind bunnies. You saunter over to the door and lead the way through the dark front hall to the hostess desk. A curvy blonde with big, sleepy, bedroom blue eyes leans over, her uniform black shirt open a little too far down. You’d seen her before and you didn’t have to look at her nametag to know that she was called Daisy. 

“How’ve you been, John? It’s been a while!” she asks, popping a piece of gum with a smile. 

Naturally, you lay on the charm and lean on her podium, too. “I’ve been alright, missing that smile though.” You push your hair back from your face with a mischievous smile. She giggles, a feint blush rising up her unnaturally tanned cheeks. The lady’s always swoon when you push back your hair. Sometimes you just couldn’t help yourself. Flirting came naturally and you couldn’t just turn it on or off. Dave slouched beside you with his arms crossed in front of his thin chest. You smirk. 

“And who’s this?” Daisy asks, turning to Dave with a wink. His blasé expression morphs into one of surprise for a split second and you take the liberty of answering for him. 

“This is my buddy, Dave.” You reach over and wrap an arm around his shoulder. “We just thought we’d come by for an early dinner. And to see you, of course.” 

“John Egbert you are quite the lady killer.” She bats at your arm before turning around and making a point to bend over to retrieve a pair of menus from the rack behind her. Instead of watching her shirt rise up like any other normal dude would have, you’re watching Dave to see if _he’s_ watching her. But you can’t tell because his shades are in the way and his expression is cool and collected as per usual. You arm is still around him and his body is warm. He’d never let you get this close before. Even though it was completely platonic in a soul-bros-forever kind of way, you couldn’t help the little flips your heart was doing. “Right this way, boys.” 

“Cool,” you grin at Daisy one last time before dropping your arm off Dave’s shoulder and following the hostess into the dimly lit restaurant. The main portion of the building was made up of scattered tables and booths in different shades of every color of the rainbow. A small stage complete with shining silver poles occupied the back of the room. You’d spent exactly one Wednesday night here a few days after your eighteenth birthday. Vriska had insisted. And maybe you would have enjoyed yourself if she hadn’t also insisted that Eridan should guest star in the show that night. You shudder at the thought.

“Bad memories?” Dave guesses. You nod and he snorts.

“Well here we are. Equius should be here in a bit and he’ll get your drinks.” Daisy plops your menus at an old booth with shining red vinyl seats that screech when you sit down. Dave scoots in across from you and immediately opens up the plastic book of food.“Enjoy yourselves.” Daisy plays with her hair.

“We plan on it, sweetheart,” Dave speaks before you do, his lips curled into a slight smirk. Daisy bites her lip before turning and floating back to the front of the building. 

“Damn, we really shouldn’t team up like that or we might explode a few hearts.” You laugh. 

“Straight up lethal.” He nods in agreement before tilting his head back to the menu. You already know what you want so you just fold your hands across your stomach and wait for Equius to show up and loom over the both of you. “So, you interested in that chick?” He raises an eyebrow, but keeps his head angled down. If he’s looking at you or not is a mystery thanks to the stupid sunglasses. 

“Nah.” You shake your head. “That was just my natural charisma.” You waggle your eyebrows at him and he shakes his head this time. 

“You were laying it on pretty thick.” He flips the page he was looking at. 

You scoff. “That wasn’t laying it on thick.” 

“Oh it wasn’t?” he asks, but his tone seems uninterested. 

“Nope. This is laying it on thick,” fighting through the bubbles in your stomach, you reach across the thin table and clasp his hands in yours. He looks up this time and your thumbs stroke over the calloused skin and you look deeply into where his eyes should be. “Do you have a map because I’m getting lost in your eyes.” 

He snorts. “That would be a great one if you could actually see them.” 

“Did you clean your pants with Windex because I can see myself in them,” you try again. His snorts turn to chuckles “People say there are plenty of fish in the sea, but you’re the only one I want to catch and mount in my room.” You flip back your hair. 

“Oh wow just take me now.” He laughs, biting his lip to keep from laughing too loud. 

“Don’t make any offers or might be tempted to just-“ 

A cough interrupts your nest line and you turn your head to see Equius’s huge form standing beside your table. Dave starts, ripping his hands from yours to nervously itch the back of his head. 

“Hey dude!” you wave. 

“Greetings, John.” Equius nods at you. “And to you too, Dave. What can I do for you?” Sweat prickles his brow just below the mop of long black hair. Poor guy. 

“Can I get a coke?” you ask. 

“My pleasure,” he bows his head and turns to Dave who asks for a glass of apple juice. “Right away,” he says before dashing back to the kitchen, only stopping for a moment to check on the corner booth that had evolved into Nepeta’s booth over the years that he’d worked there. While he bustled, about following orders to a T and sweating over getting orders correct, she sat in her colorful booth and drew up shipping charts.

“The two of them are pretty inseparable, huh?” Dave asks. His eyes had followed Equius’s path, too. 

“Nepeta’s autistic,” you explain. “Kids with her form of Autism tend to focus on one or two special interests. Hers are Equius and obsessing over relationships.” 

Dave nods his head in understanding, watching as Nepeta concentrated on whatever she was creating with her multiple crayons and sketchbooks. “Those are some weird special interests.” 

“You’ve probably noticed by now, but all my friends are a little odd.” You smirk. “You included.”

Instead of remarking at that like you expected him, he only nods again, wringing his hands together on the tabletop. But the corner of his mouth lifts up just slightly into a smile that would be hard to notice if you didn’t constantly watch his face for any type of shown emotion. But it’s there. Dave’s happy to be lumped together with your friends. Even if it made him an oddball. 

==>

“Jegus. I think that was the best meal I’ve ever had.” You lean back in the creaky vinyl seat and pat your extended stomach. John nods with a muffled ‘I told you so’ because his mouth is still full of hamburger. You’d ordered the spicy spaghetti with an extra roll on the side, courteous of Equius. The whole bowl had seriously been like heaven in your mouth, each bite a chorus of angels singing some hymn or whatever. 

You and Bro tended to eat out a lot more than you ate in, but it was always fast food restaurants within walking distance of the apartment. The last time you’d eaten anything close to a home cooked meal was the last time you’d eaten dinner with the Egberts. Right now, you are completely satisfied and full that eating any time in the next month would feel like a crime. 

John sure liked to talk. While waiting for food and in the process of eating he’d babbled on about sports and videogames and normal teenage things that teenagers tend to like. You cut in every once in a while with commentary, but mostly you just liked to watch him talk. His entire face is so full with the sincerity of everything he says and his teeth flash white against the contrast of his tan skin. Talking wasn’t much your style anyway. You preferred to listen to what other people had to say. 

Equius stopped at your table again, a fresh glass of apple juice at the ready. This guy’s so on the ball he seems to quiver in anticipation for you to ask something. The place had started to fill up a bit and he had a few more tables to man, but all of them seemed to be getting the attention you and John were. 

“Thanks man,” you say, taking the glass from his sweaty hand. He ducks his head in response and sort of backs away. You turn your head back to John and take a sip of your new glass of ice cold juice. Not the manliest thing to drink in the world but it sure as hell made you feel good inside. “So how much is all this going to cost.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, taking a sip of his own drink with a quirk of a thick eyebrow. He’d finally finished the massive burger he’d been working on and now all that’s left is a small heap of fries that he picked at now. 

“I mean, like, I don’t actually know how much something like this would cost. I’m genuinely curious?” you try. He doesn’t bite. 

“I’m telling you not to worry about it because it’s my treat,” he warns. “I’ll pay for this bro date and you can pay for the next one.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes at the term “bro date” because about half an hour ago he’d seriously been putting the moves on you. As much as you hated to admit it, those corny pick-up lines had made your heart go all haywire because the sparkle in his dark blue eyes read that he meant every stupid word he said. Or maybe you were just hoping he meant them even if they were that bad. 

And earlier, when he’d flirted with the slutty hostess chick. It was dumb. Totally retarded. But your stomach twisted with jealousy. It was innocent. He was just having a little fun, but you wanted him to look at the curve of _your_ ass that way. You wanted him to be interested in _you_ as much as you were interested in him…

You have to do something to squash this stupid crush soon or you’d end up hurting yourself. And John. You’d hurt him too. 

After all, that’s what you were good at. What you were known for… hurting people. 

You’re lost in your own thoughts when Equius comes back with your check. John snatches it away before you can even think to move. 

“Pretty slick there.” You roll your eyes and cross your thin arms across your chest. 

He smirks, sliding a shiny blue debit card into the designated slot in the little check book. “Thanks.” 

==>

You ease to the curb in front of his old apartment building and let out a shaky breath. Your palms had started sweating about a mile back and you can’t quite get them to stop gripping the steering wheel. The heart trapped in your chest seems to be trying to beat its way out. 

The plan had erupted as soon as you left the restaurant and it had progressively been making you more and more nervous. You never got nervous though. Pranksters with nerves weren’t very good pranksters at all. What happens happens and you can’t control it. Life goes on. But your stomach is turning so many somersaults you could probably win the gold medal in gymnastics. 

“That was fun.” Dave scratches at the back of his head, staring out the window at his building. “But I swear I’ll pay you back.” He’d been saying the same thing for three blocks. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about it.” And it’s true. You’d said it a million times. “You’re buying next time. And I expect some ritzy shit.” 

He smirks, lolling his head to look at you over the edge of his sunglasses. “Only the best. I hear that le McDon-elds has the best food around. Damn expensive.” 

“Seems like it should do,” you joke. 

“I’ll pester you late or something to see how far you’ve gotten on the paper you’ve got no chance in hell of finishing.” He reaches over and pops open his door. Butterflies with spiked wings spam in your gut and you almost wince from the sudden onslaught of adrenaline. 

On its own, you grab his thigh. “Dave wait.” 

“What-“ 

You throw your nerves, fear, anxiety, paranoia, everything you’re thinking, out the window and dart forward, clumsily pressing your lips against his. For real this time. 

He gasps. Wow his lips are soft. As soft as you’d imagined them to be. But they aren’t moving against yours and he’s as stiff as a board. You can feel his heart racing just as fast as yours. 

But he’s not pulling away and you take that as a good sign. So you cup his cheeks with your hands, sweeping his hair back from his face and open up your mouth a little, sucking on his bottom lip. 

Soon, he warmed up and much to your delight, he starts moving his lips against yours, kissing you back. A little voice reminds you in the back of your head that this is his first kiss… and your first in a good while. It feels good. His breath is hot as he exhales through his nose and the mint he’d had after diner was the only thing you could taste. Cinnamon and something else that had to be just _Dave_. 

For a few sweet moments, you continue like this. Just kissing Dave and willing him mentally to keep kissing you back. Because this feels right. The butterflies are back, but this time they’re softer and more of a reassurance than a nuisance and you wonder if he’s feeling the same. You glasses click together each time your angle your head differently and your hands move to the nape of his neck, curling in the short hairs there. 

Tentatively, you flick your tongue against his bottom lip, sliding it along just so. 

But instead of opening up his mouth further like you’d wanted him too, he gasps again. But this gasp is accompanied by him pushing you away. 

His lips are flushed. And so are his cheeks. You wish you could see the eyes swirling behind his glasses. The two of you sit like this for a split second before he tears your hands away from him. 

“Shit…” he whispers, more to himself than anyone before pushing his door all the way open and scrambling to get out on the sidewalk. 

“Wait, Dave-“ you say again. But by now you’ve pretty much gathered that the attempt was for nothing. 

“Sorry,” he says, sounding pained before he slams the door shut and jogs away, disappearing into the stairwell of the building without a backwards glance. 

He was right. 

“Shit…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow thanks for sticking around for eight chapters my darlings, thought I'm not quite finished yet!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angsty thoughts, advice and some more angst.

EB: wow, really?  
EB: please tell me you’re really sick or something.   
EB: like up all night puking your guts out sick and that’s why you aren’t in class.  
EB: i’m sorry, alright? really sorry.   
EB: its all my fault. won’t happen again. cross my heart.   
EB: just please don’t hide from me.

Your head is propped on your elbow as you stare at that block of blue text for the fourteenth time that day. It’s pathetic, really. You know the words won’t change for you. You know that John wants you to reply to him. But every time you start typing something it hits you as the most _stupid_ thing you’d ever found yourself capable of saying and you delete it. Then you sulk your way to the kitchen and crack open the jumbo tub of cookie dough ice cream. 

It was Monday. And you’d gone through the unnecessary trouble of tossing an oatmeal-mustard and ketchup mixture in the toilet so Bro would let you stay home from school without prodding. Of course, he’d only insulted your weak puke concoction and proceeded prodding anyway. Your morning had begun with a dawn strife on the roof. 

Customarily, the roof was a place where you could let things go. You would fight your Bro until the both of you were exhausted and then you’d sit and watch the city as you talked. But no words came today. Just anger and frustration and humiliation that you poured into every arc of your sword. You hacked and swiped and jabbed and Bro just blocked every blow which just pissed you off more. It had to have been an hour or so before you’d worn yourself down enough for Bro to hit the sword right out of your hand. 

Before he’d left for whatever the hell he does during the day, he’d ruffled your hair like he used to do when you were ten. “Talk to me whenever, man.” He’d said, before tossing up a peace sign and trudging out the door. 

So here you were back in front of your computer. Moping. Overanalyzing… and hoping that everything wasn’t fucked up now. 

You really liked that kiss. John has a wonderful mouth and he really knew how to use it. Or at least you thought he did. You didn’t really have anything to compare the experience to. You’d lost yourself in his warmth and the feel of him so close to you. He’d started it. He was the one that put the moves on you. But you’d gone along with it. And it had gone too far. 

Your friendship was ruined. You knew it. You’d let yourself get too close and you’d fucked it up and now everything was over. This is what happens when you interact with people. John was just nice. It was in his nature to check up on you. He checked up on everyone. It was best to just ignore him. Subliminally tell him that you were through fucking up his life. 

You’re sorry. For the both of you, you’re nothing but really, really sorry. This time you’re sure your emotions are actually real. 

You move the mouse, forcing the small pointer to hover over the x in the corner of the little yellow chat box. But you can’t. You can’t make yourself click the stupid button because it’d for sure cut everything off with John. And as much as you’d pretty much decided this whole friendship was over anyway, you couldn’t make it official. 

With a grunt, you shove yourself away from you cluttered desk and roll half way across the room. The old desk chair groans at the absence of your weight and you push down the groan in your own throat. Time to shove your face full of something unhealthy to otherwise aching heart. 

==>

The bell clangs to dismiss classes and your hand flies straight to the phone in your pocket. It’d buzzed a few times during class but this teacher was like a phone hunter and she’d have taken it away if you’d checked your messages during her lecture. You press your fingers in all the right ways to illuminate the LCD screen, wishing _so_ hard that the letters are red and they’re there to assure you that he really is just sick and he needs you to bring him hot soup and some cuddling company. 

But the text is capslocked and gray, screaming a longwinded inquiry about a section of math homework that you hadn’t even been assigned yet. Fighting the urge to toss your phone across the room, you stand, shoving a hand through your hair and your phone back in your pocket. You hadn’t even been to math yet. Pissed as you are, skipping the frustrating class seems like a wonderful idea. Maybe a few backbreaking laps around the track would clear your head. Or maybe you could just throw your fist through a wall or seven. 

Hastily, you grab your bag and storm out of the door into the overcrowded hall. Over the last few months, you’d grown used to finding the pale kid with light hair and a smirk constantly plastered on his face. But you know he’s not here. And even if he was, would be even want to talk to you? 

You’d kissed him, expecting him to flutter like a princess in a Disney movie and let you sweep him off his converse clad feet. You’d been so bent on your own crush that you hadn’t even considered how he felt about you. You’re friendship was delicate. More fragile than any relationship you’d ever had… And you went and pushed it and Dave was probably locked up so tight in his own mind the state pen would be jealous. 

Damn it, this was all your fault. It was all his fault for fleeing without letting you explain. It was all _everyone’s_ fault for making him think he had to flee every time he was confronted with any sort of social conflict. 

You fish out your phone again, opening the texts you’d sent him earlier as you trudge to your next class. Still no reply. And you want to say something else but now you’re so boiling with anger… Talking would be a bad idea. 

Wow you need to chill. Getting worked up won’t help anything. Or, at least that’s what you heard everyone say to Karlion when they were trying to tame him back into Karkat. Usually, you were the one that was calm, cool and collected. Rose said you wore blue because it was a calm color. Soothing and comforting. 

“Watch out, jackass!” someone scolds you, stepping out of the way just before you ram into then. 

“Sorry!” you apologize, catching the persons eye. Their face is nameless, one of the few people you don’t know around here, but you force yourself to smile anyway. “I guess I really shouldn’t text and walk. Could be catastrophic!” 

“No shit.” The person scowls, making their way around you with a glare like you’d kicked their puppy. 

“Well, excuse me,” you mutter. Dave was right. People were scum, you included. 

==>

The clock mounted on the wall displayed that the final dismissal bell at school had sounded two and a half minutes ago. The thoughts racing through your mind are making the fingers wrapped around your Xbox controller gummy and slow. You need to talk to someone. It was an odd feeling, because you’d always been able to handle your own emotions before. But now you really needed someone to confide in. But you weren’t sure. 

Everyone said that you could talk to her. She knew everything and gave the best advice and knew how to deliver low blows without making a kid feel like crap. As soon as you gave the slightest hint of something _possibly_ being the _tiniest bit_ wrong, John and his friends sent you her way. 

As soon as John introduced you to her, she nodded at you with a knowing smile and told you that you could talk to her about absolutely anything. Which you’d thought was really odd, because you’d never even met her before. It was like she had a separate sense or something and it tingled as soon as you got within ten feet because, face it, you had some pretty hardcore problems. 

After the fourth time you’d blown yourself away because you’d fallen into your own explosive trap you gave up, tossing the controller away and turning the consol off. The old clunker of a lap top you and Bro shared is laying next to the metal legs of the futon. Her name was Bertha, but the way she groaned and whirred when you pressed her power button reminded you of a big ugly truck driver. Maybe her name was supposed to be Jimmy Bob. 

It takes exactly three ions for her to load the startup screen. The password is Alohomora and that makes you smirk. The two of you are bigger dorks than you’d ever let on in public. It’s the first time you’d smiled all damn day. 

It takes a few more decades for pesterchum to load and your fingers are shaking as you hover the mouse pointer over the handle you need. With a sharp inhale you double-press and open the box.

\--turnteachGodhead [ TG ] began pestering tentacleTherapist [ TT ] at 16:13--

TT: Well, hello Strider. I was wondering when you’d speak with me on your own accord. 

You blink at the screen. She’d been waiting. That’s weird. You shake your head before replying, throwing all attempts at keeping a cool composure out the window. 

TG: okay so im really not the type of person to ask for help   
TT: Oh really? Color me surprised!   
TG: everyone says youre some sort of advice wizard  
TG: and this is between you and me  
TG: but im in need of some advice   
TT: I am all ears.   
TG: in all fucking seriousness this cant get out to anyone  
TG: im screwed enough in the social department as is   
TT: I can assure you that your secret is safe with me, Strider. I’ve never let a single cat out of the proverbial bag.   
TG: okay so  
TG: what if hypothetically  
TG: ive been spending a lot of quality brotime with a someone   
TG: considering that i hardly spend any time with anyone brotime is a big fucking deal   
TT: I've heard from John that you're fairly antisocial.  
TT: He talks about you a lot.   
TG: does he  
TG: well okay were still being hypothetical  
TG: what if this brotime that i really really dig like a lot because ive never had a friend like this before  
TG: what if its trying to turn into something more than just brotime  
TG: what if i want it to turn into something more and im scared because i think ill lose this bro  
TG: hypothetically

Wow what a fucking loser! You claw your fingers through your hair, making it stand straight on end. The obviousness of your text was screaming at you and you want to scream back, throw the computer against the wall and hide in your room until your heart gave out and you rotted away and became nothing more than a funny smell. 

You are a Strider. Striders don’t ask for hypothetical advice. They don’t ask for any advice. Advice is for fucking chumps. You bite at your fingernails and will your heart rate to slow so you can read what Rose just replied with. 

TT: Oh, I see.   
TT: You want relationship advice. Well, you came to the right person.   
TT: Assuming that this "Bro" you're spending "brotime" with doesn't know about your feelings, have you considered just telling him? Sometimes just laying everything out on the table is the best way to heal an ailment.    
TG: something already went down and i fucking blew it.   
TG: i walked away when i should have stayed and i fucked everything up   
TG: and i dont know how to fix it or even if i want to  
TG: this all happened in the magical land of hypothetical   
TT: Of course it did. Hypothetically speaking is this the reason you weren't at school today?  
TT: And hypothetically, was this the reason John was moping about and grumbling to himself like I've never seen him do before?   
TG: john was moping  
TG: well hypothetically  
TG: i guess yes   
TT: I won't ask you to elaborate any further. But in my opinion, it's not healthy to hide yourself away and bottle things up. Though, I think we all know that you’re a bang up pro at that.  
TT: I think it would be best for you and said "Bro" to lay your thoughts on the table and discuss them brazenly.   
TG: but what if it fucks everything up even more   
TT: If things are as bad as you make them seem, things are already fucked up.

You blink at the screen. She’s right. 

Of course she’s right. She’s Rose and everyone said that she’d be right. You type in a thanks and cease pestering her, staring at Bertha’s black and green default wallpaper that neither you or bro ever changed. 

You need to talk to John. You’re a fucking man now and its time you grab your problems by the balls. You weren’t a kid in the ninth grade anymore. You don’t give a shit what people think, especially John Egbert. 

Okay, that’s not true. Your stomach is tangled up and your throat is dry and you’re already terrified of bringing up the subject at hand. His username is menacing in all its dorky glory as you stare at it on screen. You swallow. What if he… what if he thought you hated him now? You did kind of pull away like a jerk. Like he’d hit you or something. 

God damn it, _he_ kissed _you_ and you should have fucking taken it like you wanted. You should have wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close and kissed him like an overexcited teenage girl but you didn’t. Something in you just wouldn’t let you fucking be happy. 

You groan, puffing out your cheeks with an exhale. You’d never fretted over something like this before. You’d never had anything like this to fret _over_. 

Damn. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Okay. You have to get this over with. Otherwise you’ll implode and Bro would kill you for screwing up the furniture. You’re just about to hover over his name and double click but it looks like he beat you to it. 

\--ectoBiologist [ EB ] began pestering turnteachGodhead [ TG ] at 16:38--

EB: look, i’m coming over and we’re going to talk and you have no say in the matter. 

You can’t help but smile slightly at the blue text, poising your hands to type something back at him. But he’s already logged off and you’re heart drops. John’s on his way over here now. The John that had made out with you not three days ago. The John that you really wanted to make out with now. More than make out. Damn it. Now was not the time to think of that. Never was the time to think of John Egbert doing things with you in various positions around your apartment. 

You shut Bertha and let her slide off your lap and back onto the floor. You are going to tell him that you just want to be friends, no matter how huge and throbbing a crush you had on his tan, beautifully shaped face. Carding your own fingers through your hair again, you stand and glide back to your room. You’re still in your spade boxers and a ratty old hand-me-down shirt. Even if you were going to draw the line at friendship, you might as well try to look alright… You know, just in case. 

==>

So you’ve decided. You’re going to tell him how you feel. You’re going to march right up into the Strider apartment, look your friend in the eye and tell him you have the blistering hots for him. And if he doesn’t like it, well… Oh well. He’ll have to deal with it because you’re John Egbert and you refuse to take no for an answer… 

That was the plan. You’re set on it. But some part of you keeps screaming to say that the whole thing was just a prank. Hahaha, I got you! you totally fell for that, didn’t you? Whoa man, why would I want to kiss you seriously? I’m not a homosexual. 

But you know that would hurt. It would hurt the both of you. So you’re just going to be honest and hope for the best. That’s what Jade had told you to do when you came to her after school. She’d hit you upside the head for not doing it sooner and had threatened to bring out a gun if you didn’t ‘march out that fucking door right now and fix this’. 

You exhale, puffing out your cheeks before taking the final walk up the slight set of stairs to Dave’s front door. Hopefully he’s alone. You really don’t want to deal with his brother right now. You hold your breath and raise your fist to rap against the old door. 

It opens almost automatically. Like he’d been waiting at the door. 

“I-“ you begin, but then you look at him. His hair is sticking up in the front as if a big slobbery animal had licked from his chin to his forehead. Your shades are missing from their usual perch and his molten lava eyes are swirling with apprehension and wonder. You exhale again and instead of charging into your lustful confession you settle for a “Hey.” 

“Sup.” He gives that little head nod of greetings and steps aside to give enough room for you to come inside. It’s just as messy as you remembered. Swords and weird puppets and DJ equipment are spread everywhere along with a thin debris of fast food cups and empty pizza boxes. “Sorry about the mess,” he says, scratching the back of his head. 

You snort “No you aren’t.” Now that you’re actually here, the nerves seem to have dissipated. Like they were never there in the first place. Everything was just natural. 

“Got me. I’m not sorry at all.” A smirk tugged at his lips and it lightened the mood blissfully. “You want a drink or something? Apple juice, orange soda, tap water, malt liquor?” 

“No thanks.” You shake your head, taking the liberty of going to the squeaky futon he and his brother share and plopping down. He hesitates a moment before sitting on a crate next to the flickering TV screen to face you. 

And here’s the awkward silence-y part. You clear your throat and he scratches at his shoulder, diverting his red gaze from yours. He sniffles, you pick at a loose thread in your jeans. You sniffle and he distributes his weight differently. 

“Okay-“both of you start at the same time, breaking the awkward silence with even more awkwardness. Cute. You let out an extremely un-charming laugh and wave your arm “You go ahead.”

He swallows and your eyes trace the way the muscles in his long neck move. 

“Okay,” he begins again. “First you gotta understand that I’m absolutely shit with feelings. So just… ignore me.” He pushes the blonde mop back from his forehead and inhales, puffing out his chest. “But, like, you’re the only _real_ friend I’ve ever had.” It sounds like he’s asking himself a question. “I mean, there’s Tavros but that’s different… Anyway. I know you have a million different friends. Everyone loves you and you’re great enough that you love them back. But I only have one dude. And you’re him. And I don’t want that… to change?” he looks up at you as if for reassurance. 

“It won’t Dave. You’re my best friend.” You smile. “I-“ you try to continue but he holds up a hand. 

“Like, it’s really hard for me to admit this. But I need… you. I need you to be my best bro for all eternity because you’re just the best there is. And I’m sorry if I fucked everything up. I just want it to go back to normal…” 

“ _You_ fucked everything up?” you ask with a sharp laugh. You were the one that kissed his pretty mouth. You were the one that pushed yourself at him and made him run away. It was _you_ and he thought it was _him_. The laughter keeps coming, bubbling up your throat with relief. 

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice raising in surprise. 

“You’re such a dumbass!” you giggle. “Wow you have a stupid brain. Damn.” 

“Fuck you too, Egbert.” He crosses his arms and tries to look put off, but the hurt is genuinely shining in his ruby eyes. That stops you laughs in their tracks. 

“Sorry that was out of line,” you backtrack. “But seriously. I was the one that put the move on you. _I_ was the one that did the fucking up of everything we hold dear. It was me. And here you are apologizing. This is just one big ball of confused as hell, isn’t it?” 

He shrugs. “Why did you kiss me anyway?”

“Because-“you cut yourself off. Had he just not said he wanted everything to go back to normal? If you told him about your crush now what would happen? It’d just frighten him away from you again and today was hard enough. Knowing that he’d skipped an entire day of school to avoid you had plagued your mind all day. You needed to mend this is the best, most secure way. Your crush on him can wait. Right now is just a time to clean shit up. Screw what Jade thought. “You said you’d never been kissed before.” 

“Yeah, so?” he narrows his eyes. 

“So, I don’t know,” you’re mouth goes dry at the attempt to lie. But you choke it out anyway. “It felt kind of like a date. So I just did it. A kiss between bros. Is there something wrong with that?” you ask, fighting the crack in your voice. If he was happy with just being friends… you weren’t going to force the issue. When you forced things on Dave he recoils. And you don’t think you can handle him recoiling forever. 

“John there is _so_ much wrong with that,” he says with a tired laugh and a shake of his head. “Whatever. Let’s forget it ever happened and just… move on. You’re still my best friend.” 

“And you’re still mine,” you nod, leaning over the area between you and extending a fist. He copies your movement, bumping your knuckles together. “You can’t hide yourself away, Dave. You just can’t. It’s not healthy.” 

He rolls his eyes. “That’s the same thing Rose said.”

“You finally went to Rose. Welcome to the club dude, she’s everyone’s psychiatrist.” You grin. “You’re now an honorary member of the best friends club. “

“I noticed.” He returns your smile in kind. And the room suddenly clears of all conflict. You take your throbbing urge to take him and kiss him again and ball it up and hide it away so it won’t rear its ugly head again. He was happy and you were happy that he was happy and that’s all that mattered. “Should I kick your ass at Mario Kart now or later?” he cocks a defiant eyebrow. 

“Oh you’re on!” you challenge him back and before you know it, both of you are settled on the same cushy futon with old controllers clasped in your hands. You can’t really say that it’s just like old times. You’d only known Dave for a few months. Six or seven tops. But sitting here with him feels as natural as breathing. 

You’re in the process of trying to mess up his concentration, shoving your shoulder into his and shouting when you hear happy music with Japanese lyrics and a peppy beat burst from nowhere. You veer off the road onscreen and fall into the darkness “Fuck! No fair!” 

Before the little turtle dude can bring you back to life again Dave pauses the game and fishes his phone out from his jeans pocket. “You deserved it.” 

“At least I don’t have a J-pop ringtone,” you shoot back. “What a fucking dork.” 

“Bro set it. Only rings like this when he calls,” he explains, holding the illuminated screen out to you. Sure enough there’s a picture of his older brother complete with baseball cap, pointy shades and katana displayed on screen. “Probably calling to see what I want for dinner.” He unlocks the phone and presses it to his ear. “Yo.” 

You watch him sideways, preparing for the brotherly banter to begin, but his face goes from easy and relaxed to somber in an instant. 

“Yes. He’s my brother. What-“ his grip tightens around the phone. The person on the other end speaks and his eyes meet yours, full of swirling worry. You have a feeling he isn’t talking to Bro. “Where?... When- okay. Yeah.” He’s shaking, his face drained of all color. “Yeah. I’ll be right there. Thanks.” He drops the phone into his lap and stares into space. Dead space. A dead look in his eyes. 

“Dave, what happened?” you ask. You want to reach out and tilt his chin up so he can look at you but you squash that feeling. When he doesn’t speak, you shake his shoulder. “Dave-“

“There was an accident.” He whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow thank you guys for sticking with this! The updates will pick up the pace eventually. Its just the last few weeks of school and I've had exams and drama out the wazoo! Thank you for the wonderful comments too!!! I've seen all of them and I keep them under my pillow to read at night XD


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the hospital, full of worry.

Everything is echoing louder more than it should be. The television in the corner that’s playing some sort of annoying evening talk show. The ticking of the clock as each second disappears. The sound of pages turning as the sniffling woman across the room flips hastily through a magazine. 

But by far, John’s footsteps are the most annoying, persistent sound you’d ever heard in your life. And you’re a fan of trance music so it’s a really big deal. The swish of his stupid athletic wind pants, the nasty sticking sound his shoes make when he moves. He’s driving you crazy. 

You have no idea what you’d do if he weren’t there. You’re slumped in one of the noisy armchairs lining the wall and you can’t make yourself move except for what it takes to breathe in and out and sip the coffee John brings you. This is a bad dream. A nightmare come true. 

All your life you’d thought nothing bad would ever happen to Bro besides his usual cuts and scrapes and bruises that he never explained to you. He’s the strong one. The swift fighter and the smooth talker. The one that took care of you after mom died even though he was nothing but a punk seventeen year old. He’s more than just an older brother to you. He’s you’re guardian. As in “person there to guard you from the shit life throws at you even if he’s the one throwing the shit sometimes.” 

And now he’s under some doctor’s knife in a room somewhere getting the shrapnel and debris pulled out of him. There must have been a fucking lot because he’d been back there for what seemed like an eternity. 

One of his friends that you’d never really met had been high (god damn it Bro, why are you fucking stupid enough to get in a car with a junkie) and had taken a corner too fast. The tiny car flipped five times before jackknifing a guardrail. Or at least that’s what the cop told the nurse who told _you_ when you got to the emergency room. His friend had left. Got up and fucking left your brother in the car after calling the cops to report the accident. If you ever met him you’d fucking kill him. 

The only other car wreck you’d known was the one that killed Tavros’s mom and took his legs away from him. And you’re trying really, really, really fucking hard not to think about Bro not being able to walk… Or be alive. Because you have no idea what you’d do if something happened like that. 

Your fingers clench harder over his shades. They’d handed them to you along with his banged up phone, a house key and his wallet. It’s all you have to cling on to. He’ll fight to get his shades back. As soon as he realizes he’s not wearing them he’ll be pissed. You exhale. At least there’s that. 

That and John’s feet hitting the hospital floor. “Egbert if you don’t fucking stop with the pacing I’ll give you a reason to be a patient.” You growl through clenched teeth. You don’t want to be mean. But for some reason you can’t help it. 

He halts, staring at you a moment before opening his mouth. “Want some more coffee?” he asks. You look at him properly and see the dark circles under his eyes and the way their dilated to almost complete blackness. Exhaustion, worry and caffeine don’t mix well. 

“No,” you say. “I want you to sit down.” 

He nods before sauntering as quietly as possible to sit in the chair next to you. He curls his knees up and hugs them to his chest, resting his chin against them. “I hate hospitals. They remind me of when mom was sick.” He murmurs, shutting his eyes for a moment. 

“You know you can leave. I’m fine by myself.” You try. It had to be almost midnight by now. 

“No way, dude. I’m not leaving you alone. That’s not fair.” He shakes his head. A weight is lifted off your heart because that’s the answer you wanted to hear. As much as you hate to admit it, you need him here. You need him beside you so you aren’t completely alone like you’re usually so content with being. It’s different now. “Look, I know we settled for a whole platonic soul bros thing but if you don’t let me hug you or comfort you or something I think I might explode.” He says. 

It makes you smirk. Not exactly a smile, but the corner of your mouth lifts up with a gentle laugh that breaks the tension you’d been feeling for all these hours. You lean over and rest your head on his broad shoulder. He unwinds, moving for a moment to stretch an arm out behind you to let you get more comfortable and you do, nesting yourself in the crook of his neck. It’s awkward because there’s a set of armrests between you and your shades are knocked askew but his fingers stroke your hair and you forget all about that. 

“He’ll be fine,” you say, fighting the tears burning at the back of your eyes. No way are you fucking going to let yourself cry. Bro wouldn’t have it. 

“I know he will be,” John replies. You feel his voice vibrate up his throat. “If he’s anywhere near as stubborn as you he’ll be more than fine. He’ll probably come out the surgery with a new superpower or something.”

You snort and it surprises you. John made you laugh. That’s what made you love him so god damn much. He made you laugh when there was nothing but darkness. “Thank you,” you whisper. He only nods his head, rubbing his cheek in your hair. 

The two of you sit in silence now. It’s too quiet. But you decide that the warmth of his arm around your shoulders is better than the steadying annoyance of his footsteps. 

==>

The clock mounted on the wall says that it’s just past midnight. Your eyes are heavy with the knowledge that you have practice at seven in the morning and you hadn’t slept well the night before. Coffee is popping in your veins but that doesn’t stop you from yawning. You shove your hands in the pocket of your hoodie and keep on trudging down the long, white walled hallway. 

Everything smelled clean. And it was cold and loud and there was a constant feeling that someone was watching you. Beeps sounded from open doors along with the gentle murmur of televisions. A woman groans in pain as you pass by and you pick up your step, rushing away before she could call for help. You really fucking hate hospitals. 

Neither of you had eaten yet and sitting still had become a burden so you offered to go salvage something to eat from a vending machine. It was hell to leave. You can still feel where he’d snuggled up next to you, his nose sniffling with dangerous tears that didn’t fall. He may have even dozed off for a few moments until the waiting room phone rang… for the woman across the room. 

It was a horrible feeling, knowing that someone was in life threatening danger. You weren’t even close to Bro. In fact, you’d found him kind of douche-y. But you’d never seen Dave so upset before. You know how he feels. Though you’d been young during your mom’s treatment you can still remember the fear and the sadness that still creases Dad’s eyes when he thinks no one is looking. 

Oh, shit. Dad. You stop in your tracks. He has no idea where you are! Oh god, he must be worried sick. You pull the nearly dead phone from your pocket and dial the number, pressing it to your ear impatiently. Shit, shit, shit someone better answer. 

“John? Where are you? Are you hurt?” The urgency in his voice almost takes your breath away. 

“I’m fine,” you speak, the words echoing off the cold walls. You hunch your shoulders. “I’m sorry I forgot to call its just-“ 

“Something has happened. John where are you I’ll come get you immediately.” Dad cuts in. Damn you’d really made him anxious. 

“No, Dad! I’m fine. I’m with Dave.” You rush to explain. “His brother was in a car crash and we’re at the hospital.” 

“Oh how dreadful!” Dad exclaims. “Is he alright? Both Dave and his older brother, I mean. Are they alright? Can we do anything?” 

You can’t help but smile. That’s your Dad. Always the first to offer help, even to perfect strangers. “We don’t know yet. He’s been in surgery for a long time. I just had to stay with Dave. It’s not fair to leave him here alone.” 

“Of course not. I’m proud of you for being such a good friend, John. It’s a very commendable attribute.” You can just picture his beaming gaze as he says this and you roll your eyes. “But it’s not right for two teenage boys to be left alone in a waiting room alone like that. There must be an adult in Dave’s family that can take care of the medical aspects.” 

“I-“ you start, but can’t finish. Dave never talked about any other family. It couldn’t really be just him and his Brother, could it? They had to have aunts of uncles or grandparents or something, right? Bro had to have at least one good friend that he could leave Dave with if something ever went wrong. They couldn’t be the only Striders left on earth. “I don’t know,” you finish what you were saying. “As far as I know it’s just the two of them. 

“Well that simply cannot do,” he scoffs. “I’ll have to come up there immediately.” 

“Dad, no. It’s fine.” You insist. But you know it won’t be enough. “Or at least, just wait until we find out something about how Bro’s doing. I just wanted to call and let you know where I was.” 

There’s a long, deliberative pause. “Are you absolutely sure, son?” 

“Positive. I’ll take care of it myself for now.” You rub at your itching eyes with the back of your hand, lifting your glasses into your hair. “If something happens,” you swallow at the thought. “Can Dave come stay with us? At least for tonight.” 

“I’d have it no other way.” 

You smile sleepily. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“Please keep my up to speed. Leftovers from dinner are in the oven for when you come home. I’ll add a plate for David, too.” He says. 

“Thank you.” 

“I love you, son. I’m so proud of you,” he says. The same thing he says every time he talks to you on the phone.

“Love you, too, Dad. Bye.” You press the proper buttons to hang up and slip the heated phone back in your pocket. If anything like this ever happened to him you’d completely flip your shit. For as long as you could remember he’d been there to mend all your cuts and scrapes and kiss all your bruises from where Jade shot you with her air soft gun. He made the perfect dinners every night and he always cheered you on at every meet you had for any sport you played. He’s the perfect father. The perfect guardian to both you and Jade.

With a heaving sigh, you continue on your quest to find a vending machine, thoughts of Mom and Dad heavy on your mind. You don’t remember much about her. Just that she was beautiful and that when she laughed you couldn’t help but laugh with her. Dad said that she was a total master and pranks and that both of you got it from her. She’s the reason your eyes are blue and why you’re not as hefty as dad but rather more lean. 

You can’t really miss her. You never knew her. But the memory of her sort of weighed down on your family every time her birthday came around. The same when one of PopPop’s documentaries came on TV. Your family is no stranger to turmoil. You shake your head, trying to rid it of all the negative thoughts so you can focus on the task at hand. 

This hospital is damn confusing and you know you’ll get lost on the way back. 

==>

“Mr. Strider?” a tall man with a balding head and tired eyes steps through the door. 

You jerk to your feet. “That’s me. What’s going on? Is he alright?” You ask. There’s no one else in the room and you can’t handle it if he thinks he’s going to make you wait the minute it’ll take to go into a conference room. 

“He’s stable.” He splays his hands out in front of him. 

“Stable? What’s that supposed to mean?” you’re shaking now, teeth chattering in your skull. 

“Stable means that he’s not in the very best condition, but we think he’ll pull through.” He explains in a patient voice that you just find irritating. “His left arm is broken and a few disks in his back were damaged. We’ll have to operate on those again soon. There was a lot of glass and metal but we got it all out and there’s no major damage to the brain as far as we can tell. Your brother is very lucky.” 

You exhale. “Can I see him?” 

“As soon as we get him settled you’re welcome to. I have to warn you, though that there’s a lot of bruising and he’s hooked to a few machines. We usually don’t let minors into the recovery rooms but in this case we’ll make an exception.” He smiles at you like that just makes everything A-oh-fucking-kay. “I’ll have the nurse call when he’s ready.” 

“Yeah.” You look at your feet, shoving your hands in your pockets. There are millions of questions zooming through your head that you know you can’t ask him. Where am I supposed to stay? How do I work insurance? Do we even have insurance? What’s going to happen if he wakes up and there _is_ brain damage? But you settle for a simple. “Thanks.” 

He steps forward and places his warm hand on your shoulder and it takes everything you’ve got not to flinch. Behind you, as gasp sounds and you turn to see John, wide eyed with concern. His arms are full of shiny chip packages and a couple bottles of apple juice. The surgeon’s hand drops away as John speaks. “What’s going on? Is he alright?” he deposits your dinner in an empty chair and rushes forward. 

“Yeah,” you say again. “Yeah. He’s fine.” 

John exhales and even though his dark blue eyes are rimmed with big, black, tired circles his mouth stretches into the biggest grin you’d ever seen. It’s infectious and even you can’t help but laugh when he pulls you into a warm hug. 

His hands pat your back and he squeezes in relief. The top of his head, plus the poof of his stupid fauxhawk reaches just below your eyes and he smells like soap and day-long cologne. The arms wrapped around you are warm and comforting and you feel cold when he lets go and steps back. 

“This calls for a celebration!” he exclaims, moving back to the chair full of snacks. The surgeon had disappeared back through the door so you follow him, plopping down into one of the other chairs. Now it’s a little less squeaky and a lot softer. Like the weight on your shoulders had effected your posture or something. He hands you a bottle of juice and takes one himself, ripping the top open. “A toast,” he says. You pop the top of your own drink and smell it, swirling it around like a wine expert. “To your Brother’s well recovery.” 

The two of you clink the plastic bottles together and chug a little more than you should. 

==>

It’s even colder in this little hall than it is anywhere else you’d been in the hospital. And it had taken a lot of exploring before you could find a good vending machine that wasn’t half empty. There are beeps and buzzes and rushing feet everywhere. Doctors look at you funny as they pass but you don’t mind. 

This was Dave’s time with his Brother. You aren’t going to intrude. But he had asked you to come back with him and here you were, waiting patiently. He can’t stay long. Or at least that’s what the Doctor said after multiple warnings about Bro’s appearance. 

You can definitely remember how terrifying it was to see Mom hooked up to all kinds of machinery, like a fly trapped in a web of IV’s and tubes. What’s worse was that you know those beeping contraptions are what’s keeping your loved one alive. The door clicks beside you and swings open, revealing an Ashen Dave. 

His pale face is ever paler and you can see the bags under his eyes even through the tint of his shades. “He’ll-“ his voice cracks, cracking your heart along with it. He takes a moment to sniffle and clear his throat before beginning again. ”He’s gonna be alright.” 

“I know it,” you say, smiling in encouragement. All it takes is the smallest opening of your arms for him to fall in them, resting his sharp chin on your shoulder. The boy is all bones and lanky limbs but you rub his back, feeling the lumps of his spine through his shirt. Now you feel the wetness on your shirt and it’s hard not to cry along with him. 

“What am I supposed to do, John?” he whispers. “I don’t… I don’t even have the slightest fucking _chance_ of having any idea what to do now.” A sob racks through his body and you rub harder, patting him in a soothing rhythm. 

“Shoosh,” you murmur, stroking his hair for a bit before moving back to his back, warming up where it had cooled from the frigid air with friction. “Shoosh, Dave. I’ve got you.” 

“I’ve never seen him with anything worse than a broken leg,” Dave admits. “That… That shit was horrible. He doesn’t even look like himself, John. What am I gonna do?” 

You lean back, making him face you so you can make this more earnest. “ _We_ are going to go back to your place and get your stuff and lock it up. Then you’re going to come back home with me and we’re going to eat a proper dinner and go to bed. And then in the morning my Dad’ll help. He’ll bring you back up here and help you with everything that needs to be done.” 

“I don’t want-“ he begins but you cup your hand over his mouth, cutting his words short. A tear is still drooling its way down his sallow cheek. You swipe it away before speaking. 

“No. Shut up. This is what’s going to happen. You don’t have a choice. I’m not going to let you be alone through this because like I said before, it’s not fair. So shut up.” The left corner of his mouth quirks up and he sniffs again. 

“He’d kill me if he caught me blubbering like this.” He swipes his finger underneath his nose and pushes the blonde hair back from his forehead. 

You wipe away another tear before letting him go completely. His cheeks are flushed from crying and that makes him even more beautiful. The usual blasé, emotionless expression you’re used to is full of concern and worry and a certain temporary relief that you hope so hard to make permanent. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

He nods, turning to rest his palm on the door of his Brother’s intensive care door for a moment before following you down the hall and into the main corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, I know... Especially for the wait I put you through *bows* I am sorry. 
> 
> and I know this is possibly the worst chapter to plug myself... but I wrote some BroxJohnxDave smut last week (part of the reason this is so late) and it can be found here --> [CLICK](http://archiveofourown.org/works/413029)


	11. Dad Is the Caretaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dad really just wants to take care of everyone.

Your name is unimportant. You never liked it in the first place and you’d much rather be known by the title you work so hard not to slander. A title that replaced your name as soon as your darling son was born. A title that represented you and everything you’d ever hoped to be. A title that any man would want to hold one day. 

Your name is Dad. 

Father, caretaker, provider and protector of John Egbert, your actual son and your adopted daughter Jade. Oh, how you love those kids with all your heart! Both of them are perfect, precious gifts and you pride yourself in thinking that the way you raised them had to do with the way they turned out. Sure, you wish John would eat more sweets. And Jade could do without sneaking all the artillery in the house but those traits are quirks that made the kids themselves. You’d never change a thing. 

Right now, you’re enjoying a pipe full of quality tobacco outside on the porch as you watch the sun rise. Your wrist watch displays that you have a few more minutes of enjoying the view before you may go and wake the kids up to allow them to have plenty of time to get ready for school. 

Your mind is racing with a debate on whether or not to make John go to school. He’d been up until early in the morning taking care of the friend that is now snoozing on the couch. He’s such a wonderful friend, your son. You’re _so_ proud. But he has practice this morning and he needs to go. Not to mention staying home from school would slander his otherwise perfect attendance. Nearly three years of high school completed and he had not missed a single day. What a good boy. 

For some reason you doubted that it’s the same for his new friend, Dave. Though there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he’s a lovely boy. He’s never rude when he comes over for dinner, though he has a foul mouth you suspect he can’t help. And other than that he hardly spoke at all. You puff at your pipe, crossing your arms in worry. 

It’s such a shame that he doesn’t have a father… Or even a mother to teach him to watch his language or how to handle social situations. The poor boy only has a brother and that brother is lying broken in a hospital bed. The moment John had explained everything to you, you’d taken it upon yourself to take care of the boy. He’s John’s friend. And Jade’s too. Your children have good judgment and you trust them. 

After one more pull off hot smoke, you tap the charred remains of tobacco into the ashtray by the front door and leave the pipe and pack of matches there as well. Both of the children know you smoke, but you refuse to allow paraphernalia in the house. It’s a bad habit that neither of them should start. 

The front door creaks a little louder than you’d like when you push it open. You should really fix that later. The living room is right down the hall, but from what you can tell Dave didn’t even stir. You lope quietly forward on stocking feet to peer over the back of the couch. 

The boy is still asleep, slightly shaggy blonde hair covering a pair of reflective sunglasses. An arm is thrown over the side of the couch and the cushions near his feet are messy. You understand completely. It’s impossible to sleep soundly when your loved ones are in the hands of doctors and medicine. You find yourself sighing again, air puffing in front of you before you turn and head up the stairs to wake your kids. He can sleep in for a bit. It’s not something you generally allow under this roof, but under these circumstances it seems fine. 

Jade’s door is first. You hear her snores before you even reach the top of the stairwell and a small smirk plays on your lips. Her door is flung open already and she’s sprawled across an unmade bed. She’d put a stop to you cleaning up her room at age fourteen. Ever since then you’d had to be sneaky to vacuum before she got home from school and prune the plants by the windowsill while she wasn’t looking. This year’s crop of odd flowers seemed to be going swell so far. 

“Honey, it’s time to wake up for school,” you saunter to the side of her bed and lean down to press a kiss to her forehead, kicking clothes and bullet casings aside with your toes. Her snoring falters for a moment before starting up again. “Jade, sweetie, you have to get up.” You shake her shoulder. This halts the snoring. She grunts, flittering her eyes open long enough to glare at you before flipping over, pulling the covers over her head. 

She’s awake as she’s going to be for the next few minutes. You decide to move on to John. 

Compared to Jade’s room, his is a bit cleaner. There’s organization to the chaos and it’s mostly clutter instead of just not wanting to pick up after himself. He’s a growing boy with many interests and his room just isn’t big enough to fit all his games and figurines and his extensive movie collection. You’re thinking about building him a set of shelves for his next birthday. 

He’s still laying in bed, but instead of sleeping like you’d expected he’s staring up at you with dark rimmed eyes. Your own crinkle into a smile before you step over his floor, careful of the disk casing and trading cards, to sit next to him. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” he answers you before you can ask, burying his face into his pillow. Your hand finds his hair in a comforting gesture that he’s far outgrown. But he doesn’t object like he usually would, he just lets his blue tinted eyes fall shut with a sigh. “Is Dave up?” 

“No. He’s on the couch. I thought I’d let him sleep for a bit.” You reply. “After I send you and Jade off to school I’ll call the office and take off. Then he and I will get to the hospital and sort out a few things. I’m afraid it’ll be difficult, though, as I know hardly anything about either of them.” 

John lets out another sigh and you brush the hair back from his forehead. “I just hope everything turns out okay. Out of everyone on the planet Dave deserves this the very least.” His eyes crack open again and you can see the blue tint of his eyes that was gifted to him by his mother. Your first wife and the only person you loved just as much as your kids. He reminded you of her so much. Sometimes it hurt. 

When he rebelled from your cooking. When he protected his friends at all costs. When he laughed so hard he snorted. He got his athletic ability from her and his social grace. God you miss her. 

You lean over and kiss your son on the forehead. Out of pure stubbornness, he reaches up and rubs at the spot, screwing up his face. You laugh, ruffling his hair before standing again, edging to the door. “I’ll take care of it, John. Don’t worry.” 

“I know you will.” He flips over to lie on his back. “Dad?” he stops you before you’re out of the room completely. 

“Yes, son?” 

“Thanks.” He murmurs, his mouth lifting into a smile. It makes you smile, too. 

“I’m proud of you, John,” you say, leaving his room to go prod Jade awake again. You’ll cook them both a nice, breakfast. French toast and bacon with powdered sugar to make how much you appreciate the both of them plain and clear. That should stay good long enough for you to wake Dave up. 

\---

The table is a mess of dishes and empty glasses of milk and juice. The kids left a few minutes ago and you were reading the morning paper as each minute goes by. Your boss had understood completely when you’d explained your dilemma. As much as you knew he hated anyone to miss work, he told you to take off as much time as you need. 

If the smells of your cooking hadn’t stirred Dave, the commotion of Jade rushing through the kitchen because she’d overslept certainly had. He’d make his way to the dining room, you trust. 

He’d only been in your home a few times as far as you know. When he ate dinner with your family you made sure to give him extra helpings because the boy was nothing but skin and bones. He always ate happily. 

Ah, there he is. You sense someone loping through the dining room entryway and fold you paper over to look at the skinny boy in front of you. The borrowed set of pajama’s John had lent him are wrinkled and tousled to match his equally messy blonde hair.

“Good morning,” you say, sitting up properly and setting the folded morning paper on the slice of empty table in front of you where your plate had been sitting. “I won’t bother in asking if you slept well.” 

“Thanks,” he swallows nervously, mussing the hair at the base of his neck before sliding over into the chair at the farthest end of the table from you. There’s a plate there specifically for him. “Uh,” he begins, raising his hands before dropping them back in his lap. His posture is awful and it makes your back ache just looking at him. You remember when you could sit like that.

“Please help yourself. Everything should still be warm. Please let me know if it isn’t and I’ll be happy to warm it up for you.” You smile at him, tilting your fedora in his direction. He looks at you for a long moment before shrugging and stretching over the table, grabbing a few slices of bread with his fingertips and flopping them onto his plate. He selects a few pieces of bacon, crumbling them over the top before slathering the entire thing in a river of syrup. He certainly has more a sweet tooth than your boy. 

“So, uh…” he starts with a full mouth. It takes everything in you not to tell him to please be polite and swallow his food first. “What exactly is the… plan… or whatever?” he asks, grabbing for the jug of orange juice and slopping a good amount in his glass. 

“As an adult, I’m taking responsibility of handling the more serious side of your Brother’s care.” You explain, steepling your fingers together as you speak. “Billing, procedure, things that they don’t generally converse to minors. Unless, of course, you have another member of your own family that you’d like to contact in my stead.” 

After another bite of food, you watch as his face falls, though it’s nearly impossible to see what he’s thinking with those sunglasses on. They resemble an old pair that John used to own. Some prop from a movie he loved. “There isn’t really anyone else,” he murmurs, staring pointedly at the table. Your heart nearly breaks. 

“How old is your brother?” you ask. 

“Twenty seven,” he answers. Assuming that Dave is the same age as John, that makes the difference between them only ten years. “Before you ask. My mom is dead and my dad left long before that. Even if it was a last resort I wouldn’t even consider talking to him.” 

You nod. “Understandable.” Your own parents had separated when you were young. “I just want you to know, Dave, that even though we’ve only met a few times before, you can trust me.”He nods this time and you smile, pushing your chair back and standing up to begin clearing the table of your children’s dishes. “I’ll leave you to your breakfast. We’ll stop at your home before the hospital so you can change into a proper set of clothes.” 

“Thanks,” he almost whispers, taking another large bite of food. The boy has absolutely no table manners. It almost irks you. But he’s a teenage boy. It can slide. 

“Any time.” You give him another smile before carrying the pile of dishes and leftover to the kitchen sink. 

\---

You deal in paperwork. Your desk is always covered in it and you’ve been handling it your entire life. But hospital paper work has to be your very least favorite thing in the world. All the forms are confusing and you always have to ask the disgruntled nurses what they mean. Not to mention you don’t know a thing about Bro… Dave had only just revealed to you that his name is actually Dirk. For some reason Bro had stuck and it was hard to imagine calling him by anything else. This man you’d never even seen. 

Two hours of dealing the doctors and legalities that never seem necessary and you’re finally finished with everything. Now all there is to do is wait. 

It’s almost the second visiting hour for the ICU. There are four slots every twenty four hours at ridiculous intervals that are impossible to meet if you wish to continue a regular schedule while your loved ones are being cared for. You’d meant to send in a letter to the hospital board back when your wife was here but you never had. With a mental note, you remind yourself to do that this time. 

Dave is slouched in the chair next to you, playing some mindless game on his phone. His chin is tucked down and the sunglasses he so permanently wears had slid down his long nose to reveal the molten red eyes you’d only seen the first time John invited him to dinner. It’s a shame he covers them up. If he weren’t always slouching and hiding himself from socialization, you think he might be an attractive young man. 

You’d gone in with him at his apartment to help him scrounge for important documents like social security cards and insurance papers. It looked just like the loft you’d had to yourself before you got married… except for the odd dolls hanging from the ceilings and the swords in the refrigerator. That certainly wasn’t safe but Dave paid it no mind. There were empty food cartons and crumpled papers mixed in with the sharp objects and contradicting soft puppets (you have no idea what prompted you to pick one up).Maybe you’d offer to help him straighten up a bit. Or John could. He’d turned down living with your family temporarily with a stiff hand. _Thanks but no thanks. I can handle myself. I have before_. 

“The eleven o’clock visiting hour has begun,” said the crackling intercom. Dave shoots from his chair and you’re apprehensive to follow. 

“You’re sure you don’t want to be alone?’ you ask him for what has to be the tenth time. The last thing you want to do is intrude more than you have already. You say just as much… again. 

“You might as well meet the guy.” He shrugs. “I mean, after everything you’ve done for him.” You can feel the emanating apprehension. 

“Not if it is not one hundred percent okay by you. I understand these sorrowful times and if you want to go in alone-“ 

“Mr. Egbert, please.” He cuts you off. “It’s alright.” He’s the first to walk towards the small door leading into the overly sanitized Intensive Care Unit. You can smell the antiseptic and medicine now. 

“Please just call me Dad. Mr. Egbert was my father.” You say. You hope it made him smile. 

Silently, he leads the way through the door. It’s cold, just as you remember. And the walls are painted a bright white. Nurses in brightly patterned scrubs scurry about like a swarm of ants. The hive is the small circular desk in the center. Discerning beeps come from different rooms. The louder ones make Dave jump. 

Dave goes straight to the glass room in the corner where the curtains are drawn tight. He grabs them, gripping them tight as he takes a deep breath. You want to touch his shoulder. Comfort him. Tell him you know what he’s feeling. But you’re fairly certain it’d just seem repetitive. You settle for, “It’s okay, Dave.” 

He looks back at you for a quick moment before nodding his head and darting into the room, leaving the thin curtains open for you to follow. You find yourself taking just as deep a breath as he did before you step through. 

There’s a window on the opposite wall letting in sunshine. There’s a view of the busy street outside and a bird is hopping around in the barely visible grass right underneath the windowsill. But that’s not the first thing you notice. 

The first thing you see is the beat up body laying helplessly in the uncomfortable hospital bed. 

His hair is the same shade of blonde as his younger Brother’s. Bruised eyes are shut almost peacefully. There are nicks and cuts along his pale skin and a large bandage covers the right half of his neck and the side of his head. An arm is casted and propped up in a sling contraption and the other arm is just bandaged. The rest of him is covered in stiff, thin sheets. Dave rushes over, fretting over his brother, placing hands here and there before taking them away awkwardly. 

They both look so broken. So out of place in this sterile place. So un-free. 

You clear yourself, looking away from them in their private moment to examine the multiple monitors and beeping screens around him. His heart rate is fast, the beeping consistent. That’s a good sign. Bags are hanging from a pole with web-like tubes pinning into his less injured arm. Saline. Nutrition. Pain killers. They’re keeping him sedated to keep him still. The back surgeon won’t be able to operate for another week and they can’t risk too much movement. Everything from here on out is just a game of _risk_

“God damn it, Bro.” Dave mutters, his voice cracking. You’re heart nearly cracks along with it. No teenage boy should have to go through this. No _person_ should have to go through this. Especially not alone. “Don’t you fucking dare not be okay. We’re not done yet.” 

You abandon formalities and step over, placing a hand on Dave’s shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. You want to bend down and place a kiss to his hair as you would do with your own children. He cringes a little, as if he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. But he doesn’t push you away like you feared. 

“I’m not your brother, Dave. But I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of _both_ of you as best as I can.” You’d never spoken truer words in your life. 

\---

At Dave’s request, you drop him off at his home. You don’t blame him for wanting to sleep in his own bed. To be around his brother’s things. You’ll have to send John over to see about him after dinner. Just so he’ll have someone to talk to and offer a ride to the next visiting hour. Maybe you could even drop by on your way to work to make sure he gets to school in the morning. If he’s going to be under your care, even partially he won’t be missing out on his education. Besides, a distraction will do him some good. 

It’s still early in the day and you consider going back to work. But you’ve had more than enough paperwork pass through your fingers today and the house could do with a sprucing up. You can make a big dinner for your precious children. You miss them. Appreciate them. With a sigh, you turn into your driveway. 

If something like this were to happen to you, you know they’d take care of you. You’d raised them to be good, loving, kind people. Such good kids. You have a feeling that Dave is just like them. All three of you will take care of him like family. He almost seems like he’s your son already. Maybe you’re just desperate to care for everyone. 

You push the driver’s side door open and step onto the gravel of the driveway. John’s slime-creature pogo thing is swaying gently as if something invisible pushed it. The tired swing Jade pushed home out of at every available chance hung on frayed ropes from the only tree in the yard. It’s old and abandoned… but you can’t make yourself get rid of it. They just grow up so fast.

With a click, the car door shuts. You swipe off some stray dirt on your mirror with your sleeve before making your way inside. 

Yes. You think a big dinner will be good for everyone. A discussion about your newly acquired family member is in order.


End file.
